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THE ANGELS OF 

MESSER ERCOLE 

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BY THE SAME 
THE LION’S BROOD 


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THE SECRET 
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THE ANGELS 


OF 
MESSER ERCOLE 
A TALE OF PERUGIA 


BY 


DUFFIELD OSBORNE 


WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY 
F. LUIS MORA 
AND ILLUSTRATIONS FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 


NEW YORK 
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright, 1907, 
é By Freperick A. Stokes Co 


Copyright, 1902, 


TO 
THE MARCHESA ISABELLA GUGLIELMI 
WITH PLEASANT MEMORIES 
OF THE HOSPITALITY 
OF 


ISOLA MAGGIORE 


ash 


by 


IkeIk ON 
s aoe 


Foe 


Are CM 


CONTENTS 


. In THE SALA DEL Camsio 


‘¢THe Perucian”? Menps Unwise 
Pians witu Wisr Counser . 


. Messer Ercorte Paints a Rose 

. Rarraetto Sees witu Boru Eyes 

. Tue Lapy Orravia Wits . 

. Monna Crecca ann Sanpro Consuttr 
. Tae Lavy Orravia Has Her Witt 


. Messer Ercote Hears a Sone 


. Tue Buinp Srvcer SEEs THE ‘‘ORFEO”’ 
. Beneatn tHe Casa Bactuiont 


. Messer Encore Says a Prayer 
. Gtanpaoto Views a Fresco 


. A Dream anv a Festa . 


9? 


. Tur Great TREASON Salts. 
. Grtanpaoto Comes Bick to Perucia 
. His Maeniricence Has His Jest . 


M 


SOA aN 
Ds Q 


MAY . 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece 

Frescogs By PEruGiIno In THE COLLEGIO DEL 
Campio (Prudence and Justice, with 
Fabius Maximus, Socrates, Numa Pom- 
pilius, Camillus, Pittacus, and Trajan). 

Frescors By PERvuGINo In THE COLLEGIO DEL 
Campio (Fortitude and Temperance, 
with Lucius Sicinius, Leonidas, Hora- 
tius Cocles, Scipio, Pericles, and 
Cincinnatus . 

Portrait oF PERUGINO, PAINTED BY HIMSELF 

Puxurrr in THE Duomo 

Portrait or RAFFAELLO, PAINTED BY HIM- 
SELF 

Patazzo Pustico, sHowine THE Lion AND 
GriFFIN 


Tue San Gtoraio or RAFFAELLO . 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Tue Trreunau In THE COLLEGIO DEL CAMBIO 
Tue Cuurncu or San Erconano. . . . 
Tue Pisano Fountain 1n tHE Piazza... 


Tue Arcu or Augustus 


A View or THe Via Appia In PErRuGtIA 


Maponna ano Sarnts or Luca SiGNorELLI 
IN THE Duomo 


THE ANGELS OF 
MESSER ERCOLE 


I 
IN THE SALA DEL CAMBIO 


HE wasa slender boy, hardly above 
middle height, and singularly beau- 
tiful: the face was one that would 
have brought joy to eyes that 
watched the cameo grow from the 
onyx, and the little red cap, set 
jauntily on one side of the shock of 
brown hair, lent an air of mingled 
impertinence and mischief to its 
wearer. A_ black velvet doublet 
slashed with cherry, together with 
parti-colored hose of cherry and 
black, set off his graceful figure. 
All the others wore gowns of some 


Coy. 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


cheap stuff, but he claimed that it 
| was absurd to expect one to paint 
beautiful things when one’s own 
| appearance was not at its best. As 
for the age of this jackanapes, a | 
glance at him, as he pirouetted about | 
the scaffolding in the Sala del Gam- 
bio, might have led you to guess — 
it at seventeen or eighteen years ; 
but, on the other hand, surely ‘‘ The 
Perugian’’ would never permit a 
mere boy to touch brush to the noble 
fresco that was to be his masterpiece. 
Therefore it seemed quite certain 
that the would-be artist must have 
seen twenty summers at the very 
least. 

‘‘Beware, my Bernardino!” he 
cried out to one of his companions. 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘“Do you not know the cost of 
ultramarine, and that the Master will 
starve you for a week if you feed 
that robe so bountifully >” 

‘‘There is yet enough to feed 
your robe also, Ercole,”’ retorted the 
other. ‘‘Hold you him for me, 
Raffaello, while I touch the cherry 
slashes in his doublet. If his coat 
be black and blue, it may do pen- 
ance for his skin.”’ 

Then there was a fine scampering 
about the scaffolds, encouraged by 
bursts of mirth from those who 
watched the chase, until it ended by 
the fugitive making a flying leap 
from the platform on one side of the 
hall to that on the other—ten feet 
at the least — whereat the pursuers 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


halted in surprise, and the rest made 
the roof ring with their ‘‘ bravoes.” 

Suddenly an awed silence fell 
upon the young men; for ‘‘ The 
Perugian”’ himself, with two of the 
leading merchant of the corpora- 
tion, had entered, unperceived dur- 
ing the excitement, and now stood 
gazing up in amazement and white 
with anger at the way his pupils 
were using their time and his. 

An instant, and Master Ercole | 
had sprung down to the floor, and 
stood, cap in hand, before Messer 
Pietro Vannucci, with an expression 
at once shamefaced, deprecating, 
and comical. 

‘‘Ts it thou playing the zany 
again ?’’ exclaimed Vannucci at last. 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole bowed low, until his very 
abasement seemed to contain some- 
thing of mockery, as he replied : 

‘Of a truth, and wisely, my 
Master; in that, having been de- 
tected, and awaiting punishment, I 
may be in the better spirit to depict 
for you your mask of ‘ Fortitude’ 
— should you trust me so far.”’ 

The rest of the pupils shrank 
within themselves at their comrade’s 
temerity, and their wonder knew 
no bounds when, after a short pause, 
during which the eyes of the great 
painter wandered from the unruly 
assistant to his morning’s work on 
the fresco, he answered with none 
of his customary irascibility. Per- 


haps the boy’s beauty appealed to 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the artist’s eye ; perhaps some touch 
in the painting mollified him, or, 
perhaps yet again, there had been 
a substantial payment that day from 
the worthy signors of the corpo- 
ration. Whatever of these or else 
it might be, ‘‘The Perugian”’ 
answered mildly : 

‘It is well for pupils when they 
learn it is none of theirs to employ 
other than their master’s thoughts 
on their master’s work. Not that I 
would seek to trammel Raffaello, or 
to deny that thou, Ercole, shouldst 
use intelligently the skill] have taught 
thee. Onlyremember that the spirit 
as well as the composing is mine: 
which brings me to a subject con- 
cerning which I would speak with 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


thee —a portrait, the robe whereof 
I shall entrust to thy brush fora 
day.” 

He paused, and Ercole still lis- 
tened, cap in hand and with a more 
respectful manner that fitted him 
oddly. The others busied them- 
selves ostentatiously about their 
work, each with one eye and one 
ear for the speaker; while the two 
citizens seemed absorbed in felicitat- 
ing each other upon the beauty of 
the frescoes. 

‘‘The Perugian” spoke again, 
addressing his patrons. 

‘« Ah, signors, how shall I express 
my joy at the words you utter, which 
tell me that you do not regret your 
generosity, and which bid me look 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


for promptness in the payments that 
are to fall due! Believe me, then, 
itis with the greater sorrow I beg of 
you to excuse my further attend- 
ance to-day. I must see to a 
commission —”’ 

The younger of the merchants 
smiled; but the other, a sharp, 
shrewdfaced man of perhaps fifty 
years, frowned slightly and shook 
his head. 

‘* Have a care, Pietro Vannucci,”’ 
he said, ‘‘lest eagerness for gain 
tempt you to essay too much, and 
lest all our commissions suffer there- 
by. Truly, we had looked to your 
explaining the whole design to us 
on this visit.” 

A curious expression, part pride, 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


part humility, and part malice, 
rested on the face of Vannucci. 

‘“Why, surely, Messer Dominico, 
I shall be pleased to wait upon you 
until nightfall. Harken now, Er- 
cole; run to the noble Prince 
Gianpaolo and tell him I will obey 
his summons at such time as the 
worthy Signor Dominico Baldeschi 
will permit.” 

The face of the merchant grew 
pale, and his jaw dropped. Then, 
as Ercole turned toward the door, 
heseemed to recover his self-control. 

‘©A jest—a jest, my good 
Pietro!” he cried, running forward 
and placing a detaining hand on 
Ercole’s shoulder. <‘‘ Your master, 
my young man, is pleased to amuse 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


himself — as if I did not sufficiently 
love and revere the good Prince 
Gianpaolo Baglioni, to whom may 
God give long life and honor! 
Surely, gentle Pietro, you will attend 
upon the house of our noble protec- 
tors before you so much as squander 
a thought on us, their servants.” 
‘«T will indeed do so, if you really 


desire it,’ said Vannucci. ‘‘Come, 


Ercole; your cloak; farewell, si- 
gnors. It is Raffaello Santi who 


>? 


will speak with you of the design. 
He had turned and passed out of 
the door, but Baldeschi followed and 
brought his mouth close to the 
painter’s ear. 
‘‘And you will not mention my 
heedless words to his Magnificence, 


Portrait or Perucino, PAINTED BY HIMSELF 


Blame 
PHAR 


° 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


my good Pietro— you that know 
my devotion to him, and how, had 
I dreamed it was he that waited, I 
would sooner have cut out my tongue 
than spoken of detention or delay ?”’ 

Vannucci laughed. 

‘*No; if you wish it, I will not 
mention how unreasonable you were 
—only remember, Dominico Bal- 
deschi, that he who seeks to control 
Pietro Vannucci Perugino must be 
prepared to run counter to the will 
of princes.” 

Crestfallen, the merchant slunk 
back, mumbling thanks that must 
have tasted like imprecations in his 
mouth, while ‘‘ The Perugian ”’ and 
Ercole pursued their way down the 


Via di Citta. The head of the great 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


master had sunk upon his bosom 
and he was discoursing aloud, but 
as if to himself: 

‘“Thou art a good youth, Ercole 
—a youth of promise, and I look 
that thou shalt paint wonderful 
things when I am dead. I have 
only one better, and him I foresee 
that we shall lose. It is_ thou, 
Ercole, who hast never so much 
as squinted toward Buonarotti and 
his follies — his sensuous, violent 
gods — sensuous, not pure like those 
of the fathers and the good Fra 
Angelico, now a saint in Heaven, 
of whom I have told you so often. 
Only yesterday this Raffaello of 
mine had the impudence to tell me 
that he saw much in the Chiusan. 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Malediction! He to see against my 
eyes — a kitten whose eyes have not 
yet opened to the ight of art! Look 
thou, Ercole, beware of those who 
would tempt thee with dainty dishes. 
They are fair to the look and taste 
— that I deny not — but they shall 
not nourish the soul, and it is death 
that must follow their partaking. 
Yes—thou paintest well. Itis thou |] 
shalt do the robe. But canst thou 
also overcome thy nature so far as to 
be discreet—to add thirty years to 
thosenow thine?” Hestopped short 
and, turning, faced his companion. 
Ercole looked drolly serious. 
‘*Have I not kept silent since you 
began speech with the Signor 
Baldeschi? ” 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘ Truly, yes; and it is much for 
thee,’’ said ‘‘ The Perugian,” smil- 
ing. ‘Therefore thou shalt paint 
the Princess Ottavia’s robe.”’ 

He had turned again as he spoke, | 
and was descending one of the nar- 
row streets that branched off to the 
right. 

‘*Thou hast not seen her,” he 
went on; ‘‘for she is come now to 
Perugia for the first time, having 


| spent the seventeen years of her 


| young life at Spello.” 


‘* The Princess Ottavia Baglioni!” 
exclaimed Ercole, and his eyes 
shone. ‘‘I have heard of her.” 

‘‘Yes; itis the beautiful lady of 
Spello herself, the daughter of the 
high and mighty lord, Gianpaolo, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and one whom it behooves silly 
boys to look aside from. Mark 
you, it is the robe thou art to paint 
—not the face. The portrait is for 
a wedding-gift to her uncle, the 
Lord Astorre, in honor of whose 
approaching nuptials she is come 
to our city.” 


“THE PERUGIAN” MENDS UNWISE 
PLANS WITH WISE COUNSEL 


‘THEY had reached a small piazza 
that lay between the gates of San 
Carlo and Eburnea, and before them 
rose a cluster of lofty buildings, 
above whose doors were carven in 
threefold cognizance the Perugian 
griffin, the Guelphic lion, and the 
azure with golden bar of the Ba- 
glioni. An aged servitor, with 
griffin’s head embroidered upon his 
doublet, answered the artist's 
summons, and, with a gesture of 
recognition, threw open the door. 
Then, casting a hasty but searching 
glance at the pupil, he turned and 
hobbled away. 


ew KHOR 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘*] will announce your coming,” 
he said. 

‘“Once again, madcap, let me 
warn thee, no tricks!” whispered 
Vannucci, impressively, when they 
were left alone. ‘‘The Baglioni 
brook no liberties. A single indis- 
| creet word might be thy ruin and 
mine,’ and he glanced around at 
the walls of the court. 

‘‘Do not fear for me, Master,” 
said Ercole. ‘‘I can run and leap 
like a goat, and Raffaello and I 
sleep in the attic of the second 
house from this. It would be 
rare sport to escape all the swords 
of Baglioni; still I forego the 
pleasure : —for your sake, my Mas- 
ter, I will not speak to the lady 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


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of the love I already bear her, 
though the unspoken word suffo- 
cate me; no, and I[ will not so 
much as kiss the tip of her little 
finger — for which, who knows? 
she may not commend your 
caution’’; and he thrust his cap 
far over on one side of his shock 
of curls, and strutted around the 
enclosure, while Vannucci com- 
pressed his lips to restrain his 
agitation and tried with warning 
gestures to check the flow of 
words. 

Ercole skipped up close to him. 

‘‘Ah, my Master; you are no 
minister of state or ambassador, 
like the wise Messer Nicolo Machia- 
velli of the Florentines. If you 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


cried out to me to be silent, only 
the spies at the lower windows might 
hear it, but when you shake your 
fist and put your finger to your lip 
every crevice that looks upon the 
court must perceive that I am talk- 
ing treasons. See, now, here comes 
old Cerberus. [I amdumb. Soon 
I will be blind if you will have it 
so.” 
Annoyed, indignant, terrified, but 
powerless to change his plans at 
this hour, Vannucci followed his 
conductor, and Ercole came after, 
uninvited, ignored, and with a look 
of mock humility upon his face. 
Up several carved stairways, 
through long halls, until at last they 
paused before a curtained doorway, 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


opened for them at that moment by 
a woman older even and more 
decrepit than the porter. 

‘Tt is the Lady Ottavia? Ah, 
how lovely she is!” whispered 
Ercole in his master’s ear; then, 
seeing that the great painter was 
really frightened at hisindiscretions, 
and being also interested in the 
appearance of the young princess 
he was about to see, he held his 
peace and resumed his expression 
of lugubrious gravity. A step for- 
ward and they came upon a pretty 
picture indeed: a girl leaning far 
over the arm of a great Gothic chair 
in which she had perched herself, 
and striving to rescue a small vol- 
ume from the tender mercies of an 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


angry spaniel, who seemed to regard 
it as a rival for his mistress’s favor. 
Her back was toward them, as she 
peered down behind the chair, but 
the poise of readiness to pounce 
upon the abductor, should he venture 
out from his refuge beneath, showed 
the lines of her form in all the charm 
of slender and girlish grace. A 
cloud of hair, half loosed from its 
net of pearls and golden with the 
purest tint of the Etruscan refiners, 
floated across her neck and cheek, 
while the broad sleeve of a blue 
gown, through whose slashes the 
white of her satin vest seemed ready 
to burst, trailed almost to the floor 
in her eagerness to effect a capture 
or a rescue. 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 
A. footfall—a sudden intuition 


—a whisper of Messer Cupid’s — 
who knows? warned the lady of the 


presence of strangers. Like a flash | 


she sat upright; digmity, become 
almost forbidding in her conscious- 
ness of its former lack, drew her 


face into lines whereat one hardly — 


| knew whether to be frightened or 
amused. The gown and golden hair 
were still sadly tumbled, and the 
spaniel growled beneath the chair 
and worried the hated volume. 
Vannucci and the duenna had bowed 
their heads in grave deference, ob- 
livious of all but the duty owed to 


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relaxations. Ercole stood bolt- 


upright and gazed spellbound. He 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


had, indeed, snatched his cap from 
his head, then he had dropped it on 
the floor and clasped his hands in 
utter unconsciousness of the fervor 
of his gaze. Neither of his com- 
panions noted his attitude, so intent 
were they on convincing the young 
lady that they had observed nothing 
of dog or book or theft or ambuscade; 
but she had let her eyes, golden also 
like her hair, wander lightly from 
these two, and now they rested 
| thoughtfully on the younger man. 
- Gradually the look of prim dignity 
melted away and her cheeks took 
on a shade of rose; the tremulous 
forerunners of a smile crept into the 
corners of her mouth; thenshe grew 
white and blushed again. At last 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


she spoke, to Vannucci, but with 
eyes still fixed on Ercole, to whose 
ears her voice came as from the lute 
of Heaven. 

‘“You must pardon me, Messer 
Pietro, that I have not received you 
with more fitting ceremoniousness. 
Monna Cecca will tell you ; it is all 
Amanto’s fault: he is a very wicked 
dog, and it was my uncle, the Lord 
Troilo, who gave me the beautiful 
book of Messer Petrarca.”’ 

Vannucci and the old woman were 
bowing low again and mumbling 
protests that all proper ceremony 
had been observed and that the 
mere delight of gazing on the beauty 
of the Princess Ottavia was enough 
to make one blind to any default, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


had such existed. Suddenly they 
were conscious of a quick move- 
ment. Like the stoop of a falcon, 
Ercole had darted upon the revenge- 
ful Amanto, who was taking ad- 
vantage of the seeming diversion in 
his favor to sneak away unobserved 
and enjoy the sonnets of Messer 
Petrarca in appropriate seclusion: 
there was a momentary scuffle, an 
indignant snarl, and the rescuer knelt 
on one knee before the Gothic arm- 
chair, holding out the wounded but 
still living volume, while the baffled 
culprit danced about in a frenzy of 
rage, but ata safe distance, and made 
the walls ring with his indignation. 
The old woman gazed, shocked 
and speechless, while the great 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


painter’s anxiety was not unmodified 
by a consciousness that, as a com- 
position, the picture was more than 
charming. As for the lady, she was 
now full mistress of the situation, 
and her smile added new beauty to 
| her voice. 
‘‘Andwhoismy brave knight who 
| rescues the gentle poet from the 
| teeth of the wicked dragon ?”’ 
Vannucci hastened to answer, fear-_| 
ful of what reply his pupil might 
| make: 
‘It as one of my young men, 
who, by your noble father’s per- 
mission, and with that of your 
Magnificence, will paint the folds of 
the robe in the portrait your beauty 
has set upon my poor canvas : Messer 


Saale 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole da Passigno, a good youth 
and clever, though country-bred 
and prone to heedless indiscretions, 
which [I pray your Noble Magnifi- 
cence may pardon for the sake of 
the love, devotion, and reverence I 
bear your house.”’ 

‘<Truly, Messer Pietro, it has 
seemed to me that his breeding is 
of the best, and if his skill but 
equals it, he shall surely paint the 


robe.” She had taken the book | 


from his hand and was regarding 
Ercole with an odd little expression, 
as he stood before her with bowed 


l| 


head, a model for all the discreet |h 


virtues. ‘‘ Yes, truly, he appears 
excellently well bred.” 
The last words were uttered almost 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


in the manner of an unconscious 
soliloquy, and they were followed 
by a pause. Vannucci perceived 
that the time had come to take his 
departure, and yet he felt the ne- 
cessity of one more word of warning 
in Ercole’s ear —a dread of what 
mad escapade might result upon his 
choice of an assistant, which he had 
now come to look upon as an act 
of consummate folly. <‘‘ Ah, if he 
had but brought Bernardino Betti 
or Giovanni di Pietro! The devil 
was in the impulse that had moved 
him to this !”’ 

Thus pondering, but with a smile 
that disclosed nothing of his troubles, 
‘«The Perugian”’ bowed low. 

‘“ And now,” he said, ‘‘if your 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Magnificence will permit me to with- 
draw, my pupil will do his work, 
after I shall have whispered him a 
word concerning the colors.” 

She bowed rather stiffly, and, 
while the duenna bustled around, 
Vannucci placed his hand upon 
Ercole’s shoulder and drew him 
back. 


‘‘Once more, by all the saints, 


oe 


hold yourself well. A foolish jest — 


means ruin. Daggers set loosely 
in their sheaths in this house.” 

‘‘ Trust me, my Master ; it shall 
be as you wish,’’ said Ercole, slowly. 

Never before had ‘‘The Perugian”’ 
noted in his. pupil such seriousness 
of face and speech, and, inconsistently 
but humanly enough, it disturbed 


ec 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


him the more. The die was cast, 
however; Ercole must take his 
chances; and Vannucci, as he de- 
scended the staircases and passed 
out into the street, found consola- 
tion in reflecting that, even at the 
worst, his own case would not be 
desperate. Should offence be given, 
the Baglioni would doubtless glut 
their vengeance on the first offender; 
and then, too, he, the master-painter, 
was a man of too much value and 
credit to the city to be visited very 

heavily for what was at worst but 
an error of judgment. 


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MESSER ERCOLE PAINTS A ROBE 


ERCOLE set himself to the task of 
mixing his colors and arranging his 
palette. ‘Then he aided MonnaCecca 
to wheel out the easel bearing the | 
picture, and stood spellbound before 
it, gazing on the perfect beauty that | 
‘‘The Perugian”’ had transplanted 
upon his canvas: an inspiration 
from Heaven: the loveliness of the 
sweetest saints, the splendor of the 
most glorious angels! Hardly con- 
scious of what he did, he began to 
paint, glancing quickly from the 
robe to the picture and back again 
to the robe. She had taken the 
graceful pose that the portrait set, 
and though he had not let his eyes 


MESSER ERCOLE 


THE ANGELS OF 


wander to her face, he knew that 
hers were resting upon him — felt 
them in every heart-beat, in every 
pulsation of the blood that seemed 
to leap through his veins. A robe? 
What was a robe to paint! —a 
jealous thing eager to cover greater 
beauties than its own. How arro- 
gantly that fold sought to assert 
itself! — a mere wrinkle — stiffness 
without grace; and, ah! to dream 
of the perfect lines of the shoulder | 
from which it hung! He was 
painting now with a furious energy, 
and yet it was only his mind’s eye 
with which he saw — dimly, as in | 
a dream. He was conscious that 
old Monna Cecca had been babbling 


gossip — nonsense — wise precepts 


; 
Zr, Oo x Vans —~O WO OG 
EGS ee) 
S eB 


SAL 


SS 


SOS! 


ANSZING, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


—what did it matter? They were 
only strings of words, and the voice 
cackled; but in the ears of his 
dream were divine harmonies — 
cytheras and lutes and _ heavenly 
voices, such as warbled from the 
angels ina picture he had once seen, 
and which his master had said was 
painted by a holy friar who dwelt 
near Florence: a painter to whom 
God sent the most glorious of his 
household that men might know of 
their beauty. Was there not an 
angel before him now ?—and yet 
he dared not look at her. Why 
not? If the good Fra Angelico had 
been of so timid a mould, God 
would doubtless not have favored 


him. A laugh, low like the ripple 


cole 


ey 


<> 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of a mountain brook, broke in upon 
his ecstasy. 

‘See, Monna Cecca ; 1s my robe 
truly of the blue [ bade you tire me 
in? Itis blue as the sea unto my 
eyes also, but our good Messer 
Ercole is a painter, and his brush 
proclaims me clad in cloth of gold.” 

Rudely awakened from his rey- 
eries, Ercole gazed blankly from the 
portrait to the model. When had 
he mixed the gold upon his palette ? 
—or had he done it at all? — yet 
truly all that he had painted was 
golden like her hair; and the blue 
strokes with which his master had 
sketched in the garment she wore 
had wellnigh vanished, or showed 
but as a shadowy imridescence. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


| The effect was strange, unearthly, 
beautiful. 

He was looking into her eyes at 
last — eyes brimming over with the 
laughter that curled the corners of | 
her mouth; and a new madness 
came to his brain and drove out 
that which had been its tenant. 
She was not one of God’s angels, 
after all. She was a Princess of 
the house of Baglioni; a mortal 
like himself, fashioned to love and 
be loved. What should prevent 
- him seizing her in his arms — up to 
the roof! — out and over — down 
into the attic he shared with Raffa- 
ello? —and whither then? Ah yes ; 
then he and his friend would hold 


the stair against all the bravoes in 


ZF 


Wi, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Perugia; and, having won, they | 


would be lords of the city. 
The harsh cackle of Monna Cecca 


broke in upon his dream. 


‘¢ What basketful of follies is this ? 


| you little imp-of-nothing-at-all! Is 


it to obtain the punishment of an 
old woman that your master’s pupil 
plies his art? and here I have been 
speaking wise and prudent things ! 
and under my very eyes—ah! how 


shall this day’s work end for me?— 


oully-— oulne 

Ercole sat still under this tirade, 
like one newly awakened, but the 
Lady Ottavia spoke soothingly, hav- 
ing banished the laughter from her 
mouth and eyes : 

‘Nay, be wise, mother, with 


EZ 


PA RR 
SO SO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


your own wisdom, and do not send 
the young man away because he 
has fallen into a very pardonable 
error. See, rather, how necessary 
it is that he should correct it — lest 
others find it thus and wonder.”’ 
Without more ado, and as if the 
matter were settled once for all, she 
resumed her pose; only her eyes 
met Ercole’s for a moment and saw 
in them gratitude and a strange 
new word as well — a word that had 
never come to her before, but which 
she saw now, and, seeing, knew that 
she had known it well long before 
sight or hearing or thought had 
dwelt with her. Then she blushed 
and looked down, and Ercole mixed 
his colors anew and fell furiously 


ee 


eH 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


to work, while Monna Cecca grum- 
bled and shook her head and at last 
grew silent. 

Suddenly her mistress addressed 
her, asif in an outburst of thoughts 
that the long silence had bred : 

‘«Truly, good Monna Cecca, I 
have decided that I will not wed the 
Malatesta.” 

The duenna’s eyes grew round 
despite their wrinkles and their lids 
drooping with age. LErcole’s heart 
gave a great leap in his bosom. 

‘‘But your father —the gentle 
lord, Gianpaolo—>”’ gasped the old 
woman. 

‘* My father loves and will never 
compel me,”’ pursued the girl, with 
a pretty air of decision that matched 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


well with her lineage. ‘‘ The Ba- 
glioni do not drive easily, and I have 
decided that the Malatesta is an evil 
man — and that there is another I 
love better.”’ 

She was looking far away, out 
through the window, as she spoke. 
Monna Cecca, old and withered as 
she was, seemed struggling with an 
apoplexy. Ercole had shot one 
glance at the Princess’s averted face 
and felt that it was consciously 
averted. Then his eyes dropped to 
_ his palette and he strove to collect 
his thoughts. A noise at the door 
interrupted the new silence that had 
fallen upon the group. A man 
stood there, looking from one to the 
other with piercing eyes deeply set 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


} in a face that was stern, cold, 
haughty, and yet strangely beau- 
tiful. His tall, slender figure, 
dressed in black velvet relieved by | 
slashes of red satin, added to the 
impression of a personality that the 
artist would glory in and the pru- 
dent man take good care to stand 
well with, or, better yet, stand 
far from : — a human tiger or leop- 
ard — beautiful, strong, relentless. 
Ercole was no coward, but he knew, 
for a brief moment, all the power 
of terror. Surely every thought, 
every dream, must be legible to 
those sombre eyes. What then? 
Well, he would be stabbed. Many 
men had died thus, and why should 


he fear? The pain was trifling, 


\ 


NOS 


ee ee a ee 


Puupit 1n THE Duomo 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and he had confessed to old Fra 
Geronimo at the Duomo only two 
days ago, since when he could 
hardly have accumulated a very 
long stay in Purgatory. Thus, 
rendered more serene by an analyt- 
ical consideration of the worst out- 
come of his perl, and by the 
consciousness that now was the 
time to show forth his noble blood 
before the most lovely eyes in 
Perugia, he rose, palette in hand, 
and made an obeisance so profound 
as to be almost ironical. Monna 
Cecca was mumbling her beads 
behind her skirt, and even the Lady 
Ottavia wore a pallor on her cheeks 
that her smiling greeting could not 
quite cover. 


NEN 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘“It is most gracious in you, 
sweet father, to come unannounced. 
What think you of my portrait?” 

Though the Lord Guianpaolo 
seemed to smile, yet it changed 
scarce a line of his inscrutable face, 
as, turning slowly from Ercole’s to 
his daughter’s greeting, he moved 
forward with a step half gliding and 
full of power — still the great cat 
in every action — and stood ponder- 
ing before the easel. There was 
silence for a moment. 

‘« It is indeed yourself, my Otta- 
via,” he said at last. ‘* When I 
have said that, I have said all. It 
is very beautiful.”’ Then to Ercole: 
‘“ Young sir, my steward will give 
you a purse for your master and 


by 
Os 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


a largess for yourself as you go 
out.” There was no change in 
his manner or voice, but Ercole 
felt a little shudder pass through 
him. 

‘‘Your Magmificence is_ satis- 
fied?” he said; ‘‘and yet,” with 
a dash of his old boldness, ‘‘I 
had it in purpose to help the robe 
still more.” 


‘¢Tam satisfied. I have said that 


the portrait of my daughter is per- 
| fect. For me, then, it is also 
finished — and for you.” 

There was cold steel in the tones 
now, and it pierced like the point 
of a rapier. Still the face had not 
changed, except that the speaker 
stood at full gaze. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Again bowing, to take the 
thrust with a better grace, Ercole 
replied : 

‘<The words of your Most Noble 
Magnificence bring me a joy and an 
honor that only my master’s will 
surpass.” 

Gianpaolo smiled grimly as he 
watched the young man gathering 
together the tools of his art. 

‘‘T have permission to retire )”’ 
said Ercole. 

Gianpaolo inclined his head very 
slightly ; and then the recklessness 
of Ercole’s nature asserted itself, 
and he looked long and earnestly 
at the Princess with a look that no 
man or woman could fail to read. 
The crimson surged to her face and 
[ 44 ] 


ee ai 
ee 


SG 


“4 


bite 4) Neg 


J) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


neck. He bowed and was gone, 

while a half-formed frown on her 

father’s brow drooped down to min- 

gle with the odd smile that curled 
| his lip. 


ee 


[ 45 ] 


RAFFAELLO SEES WITH BOTH EYES 


As the student descended the 
marble stairways, he was not with- 
out a full consciousness of his peril. 
He had, indeed, dared to beard the 
fiercest and most madly reckless of 
all the Baglioni, and in his own 
palace, where a nod might sheath a 
score of poniardsin a man’s body: he 
had bearded him in a quarter where 
the nobles of his house were most 
proudly sensitive, and in a manner 
as emphatic to the subtle Italian 
mind as was a curse or a blow to 
men of the Northern races. Thus 
far he was safe, but could he hope 
to pass the court and gate? What 
signals might already have been 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


given from the window? And yet 
the new-born love of this girl sent 
the blood bounding through his 
veins in reckless exultation. Not 
for worlds would he quicken his 
pace — nay, under ordinary circum- 
stances he would doubtless have 
leaped down the steps three at a 
time, but now he schooled himself 
to the stately carriage of some Vene- 
tian doge upon the Stairway of the 
Giants. Then the court came into 
view, and he strolled out upon the 
pavement, humming a Lombard 
love-song. Now was the time to 
die! Surely he could never again 
face death so gayly or in such a 
knightly cause, — for the Lady Ot- 
tavia Baglioni, for the love-god 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


himself who had shaped her to be | 
his high priestess unto the lovers 
and loves of all times ! 

The court lay listless, empty but 
for two or three servants busy clean- 
ing armor, and the hideous old porter 
nodded sleepily at his post. Ercole 
crossed it, walking lightly, but with 
nothing of haste, and, a moment 
later, turned into the little piazza. 
His own door was but a few steps 
up towards the Via di Citta, and he 
entered, careless whether watchful 
eyes had traced him, and mounted 
the many flights that led to the attic 
he shared with his fellow-pupil, 
Raffaello Santi, whom ‘‘ The Peru- 
gian’’ had often named to become 
the greatest painter of them all. 

[ 48 ] 


Portrait oF RaFFAELO, PAINTED BY HIMSELF 


* 


* 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


No jealousy had ever found harbor 
in Ercole’s heart, and, as Raffaello 
sprang up from the chest that did 
service also as his bed, they greeted 
each other like brothers. Then the 
latter’s quick eye caught a new 
expression in his companion’s face, 
and, holding him offat arm s-length, 
he studied him closely for a moment. 

‘‘Now, my Ercole; now I could 
paint you as no master shall ever 
do in times to come. Pity you are 
not a grand signor now. What 
has happened? Tell me truly, 
mio caro, for you are to-day indeed 
great and noble and beautiful —a 
hero —a man — that was but yés- 
terday only a harebrained youth 
like the rest of us. You are 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


happy, too— yet you are also 
troubled.” 

And then Ercole seated himself 
upon the chest and, while the other 
continued to study his face, he burst 
out with his tale of the day. It 
was the artist that spoke and the 


S| artist that listened, and these artists 


were at once boys and men: boys 
in the hot flush of spirit and passion ; 
men in strength and intellect, in 
| courage and chicane. 

Raffaello sat silent when his friend 


| had finished. At last he said : 


‘‘She is worth dying for, my 
Ercole?” 

‘©A thousand times—for a 
glance.” 

‘Then, truly, it seems to me that 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


it will be much wiser to live for 
her.”’ 

He laughed softly, and Ercole 
smiled. 

‘‘My skin is whole yet, if my 
heart be indeed pierced through,” 
he said. ‘<I shall not offer my 
throat to their swords; still, the 
Baglioni are not to be defied with 
safety — by such as we.’ 

‘* Ah! mio caro,’ exclaimed Raf- 
faello, and he looked upward with 
a rapt expression, as if gazing upon 
some beautiful spectacle — ‘‘ ah! 
you should have seen the gentle 
lord, Astorre, on the day when the 
Oddi came back to Perugia with 
Giulio Cesare deglh Ermanni and 
Agamemnone della Penna and Troilo 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Savelli and Nicolo di Sforza! It is 
five years now. ‘They burst into 
the gate with a great company of 
exiles and hired bravoes, shouting 
each the name of some gallant 
house. One by one they had torn 
loose the chains that barred the 
streets against men-at-arms — up to 
the Piazza del Duomo — until the 
bronze lion and griffin trembled and 
wellnigh fell from their marble 
brackets on the palazzo. Then sal- 
hed out the Lord Simonetto, un- 
mailed, and assailed them, fending 
or taking their blows, until the Lord 
Astorre was armed and rode forth 
and bade his cousin go tend the 
twenty-two wounds he had received. 
Ah! you should have seen Astorre 


NIAATML) anv NOI] AHL ONIMOHMS ODITAN GY OZZVIVG 


Weemmaneecerersarscornessnomoy stcctarenet sec stam nessitattennasius Wietmerertonnassenent ter onsen — 
rik pnt ontentereaes eomemsotscomm stort teeee 


isso 


' 
' 
i 
/ 
| 


EE SEES RR EON SPAN LC LIICE NPS AS NE IRC D cho ANCA Monte 


axle 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


ride into the press, cutting, thrust- 
ing, leaping over the fallen men and 
horses, invulnerable, terrible, while 
the griffin’s head flashed upon his 
helmet, and his eyes and sword 
streamed fire. Then it was I swore 
that if ever the saints favored me 
to be a painter, [ would paint me 
a San Giorgio that should be the 
noble lord, Astorre Baglioni, whom 
I shall ever see. May San Lorenzo 
and San Ercolano grant me the 
fulfilment of my vow!” 

‘«He slew them ? — they fled?”’ 
questioned Ercole, his face burning 
with animation, though the tale was 
no new one in Perugia. 

‘Yes, he slew many, and then 
his people gathered to the rescue ; 


ACS ae 
(eg NO NOTTNOY, 
WeN{6 Uy PY CV SOAS ye 0 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


stooping, swift and fierce, like a 
beautiful brood of falcons. Believe 
me, there were but few of the Oddi 
that fled.” 

‘‘Well done, Baglioni!” cried 
Ercole. 

Then they sat still and looked at 
each other, remembering that it was 
these same falcons whose claws 
Ercole da Passigno must elude. 

Raffaello spoke again. 

‘* Do they know where we live ?”’ 

Ercole spread out his hands. 

‘‘Tcannot say. They could have 
spied on me as I entered.” 

Raffaello pondered. Then he 
took his cloak and short sword. 

‘‘T go to seek our master,” he 


said. <‘‘ Surely he will help us.” 


Tue San Grorcio or RarFraELLo 


¢ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole looked doubtful. 

‘‘How many ducats would he 
lose if the Baglioni cut his throat 
for harboring me?” he asked, 
smiling. 

‘« They will take care not to cut 
his throat, and he will take care to 
get his ducats,”’ laughed Raffaello. 
‘‘Though a throat more or less be 
nothing to the Baglioni, would not 
the whole of Italy name them bar- 
barians if they slew ‘The Perugian’? 
Lie close till I return.” 

He was gone, and Ercole threw 
himself upon his couch to close 
his eyes and feast them with the 
face of Ottavia. 

Swords and daggers were nothing 
to him now; was he not in her 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


presence ? telling her of his love? 
watching the delicate blush that 
mantled brow and cheek and neck? 
Malediction! Why must Gianpa- 
olo’s bravoes come so quickly? He 
rubbed his eyes and sat up, rueful, 
| but somewhat consoled by what was 
at least a new reprieve. 

‘«Ttis well,’’ Raffaello was saying. 
‘*T have seen the Master. He is 
angry, but will help you. He must 
—for the sake of your father if 
for no other reason. Listen, now. 
You are to stay here. If they be 
searching for you, escape from the 
town would be hopeless — with a 
guard at every gate. I mentioned 
his taking you into his own house for 
a few days, but he fell at once into 


SO: 


GOU LONE TATE RE EY & 


Tue TriBuNAL IN THE CoLLEGIO DEL CampBio 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


an ague, protesting that spies would 
surely be stationed there, and that 
the nearest place to the falcon’s 
nest would be the safest. You are 
to work no more in the Sala del 
Cambio; visitors are too frequent ; 
nevertheless he thinks it better that 
you work, and he will set you at 
the Assumption in the convent of 
San Severo, in a room which none 
enters but a few monks, and you are 
to slip in before daybreak and slip 
out after nightfall. That will throw 
them off, if they seek you at the 
Collegio.” 

‘‘And here? if they saw me 
enter?” said Ercole, wrinkling his 
brow. 

‘You must take your chances 


TINT WES RE WV? 


(OS 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of that. Only, if they come, not 
having found you at the frescoes, 
it will be most like in daytime, 
when you are away. At night, 
there will be chances — over the 
house-tops. At all happenings it is 
the best we cando. You cannot fly : 
no one will give harbor to a hare 
that the Baglioni are coursing, and 
you will be in a safe place o’ days. 
Besides, your surest safeguard is the 
festa that begins to-morrow : pag- 
eants, jousts, banquets, balls to 
celebrate these approaching nuptials. 
Therefore, most of all, after the 
saints, are you to bless Astorre 
Baglioni and Lavinia degli Orsini.” 

‘« They shall have six wax candles 
— each —if they save me,’ said 


SING ro, 
pe DESH Sel 


KAY. Se 
ECE BDAS ix are 


Tue Cuurcy or San Ercorano 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


| Ercole; and then they looked at 
each other and laughed at the thought 
of a Saint Astorre. ‘‘ But to the 
sweet Madonna I vow a triptych 
when Iam famous: Herself and our 
Lord shall look from the middle 
panel, with Saints Lorenzo and Erco- 
lano on the one side and Constantius 
and Ludovico di Tolosa on the other 
— this if She give me her.” 

Raffaello’s mouth fell open. 
‘You cling to your folly?” he 
gasped. ‘‘ If the Master dreamed 
it, he would take you in his own 
hand to the Lord Gianpaolo.”’ 

** And still — before him even — 
I would cling to it,” exclaimed 
Ercole, hotly. ‘‘I would love but 


once as I can die but once, and it 


Le, (EE NZ Ye) <P Gis 


ay, 

US 

te a 

®) )\ 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


would be decorous they should fall 
together. Truly, my friend, I was 
laughing when you spoke of my 
escaping from Perugia — trying to 
imagine myself flying from the city 
where she dwells. It is the dear 
Mother of God who shall aid me, 
Raffaello, if it be Her will that Ilive.” 
Raffaello shook his head doubt- 
fully, but he smiled, saying, 
‘“Well, so be it, then; but you 
will be cautious and wary ?”’ 
‘«Assuredly ; for my very love’s 
sake,’ said Ercole. ‘‘ Now I am 
sleepy. In a few moments I shall 
see her and speak with her, Raffa- 
ello —in a country where coward 
caution and the pride of princes 
cannot enter.” 


ee 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Then followed days and weeks 
of feasting, dancing, and chivalric 
games through all Perugia; festiv- 
ities the grandeurs whereof Raffaello 
related to his friend in the night. 
As for Ercole, every morning he 
crawled down from his attic, and, 
having peered cautiously out of the 
doorway into the dusky street, 
scurried away through the gloom ; 
under triumphal arches bearing the 
united escutcheons of Baglioni and 
Orsini, that loomed up in the gray 
mist and yawned for the pageants of 
the day; past palaces and houses 
hung with garlands — far over to the 
convent of San Severo, where a 
young monk always opened the little 
postern for his coming, as the warder 


Gale 


Toes 


A AO 


hy 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of some sanctuary might receive 
a fugitive who sought its shelter. 
After nightfallit was the same course 
back, only more dangerous, because 
the streets were thronged with be- 
lated revellers, — peasants from the 
country-side come to gape at the 
spectacles, retainers of the great 
houses eager to drink and bully 
and make love and pick quarrels.: 
Among all these Ercole threaded 
his way each night, pausing near 
his lodgings until the coast seemed 
clear, and then darting under the 
archway and into the blackness of 
the hall and stairs. 


THE LADY OTTAVIA WILLS 


AH! but my little bird of Spello 
sang sweetest of them all to-night.” 

It was Monna Cecca that spoke, 
while her old fingers, trembling but 
still dexterous, were busy with the 
lacings of Ottavia’s gown. 

‘No lady from Rome, or from 
Naples — no, not even the proud 
new Princess herself — but was a 
bat’s face to my Pretty; aye, and the 
setting was well studied to show 
the jewel. It is old Monna Cecca 
that ever prays the good saints to 
teach her the feathers that best 
clothe her little bird, so she may 
win praise ever and the love of 
some brave gentleman who rides 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Pp 
VY 


(©) 


with his hundred lances — strong 
and cunning as the wicked Duke 
Cesare, but gentle and true as the 
good Lord Jesus — ” 

Ottavia’s laugh was doubting, 
indulgent, kindly, and a little bitter 
withal. She shook her hair free 
from its net of pearls till it flowed 
down over the loosened vest. 

‘*‘T do not want him, mother, 
and why should he want me? 
Dream of this gentle youth that 
is to be my husband dwelling 
with us here in Perugia! Can 
you not see my sweet cousin 
Simonetto stab him some morn- 
ing, that he may prove by how 
much the art of our good Van- 
nucci surpasses that of Messer 
[ 64 ] 


Ne 


©) 


aS a: 
wy, 


IG 
J \ 
“S 


fe) 


MOM WBAH 
ZN 


a 


on 


aap) pt 
Nt) 
(17 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Leonardo of Florence —a dainty 
dispute, truly!” 

‘* But the Malatesta — ”’ | 

‘‘T hate the Malatesta. No, I 
have decided that I shall marry a 
poet or — or a painter, such as the 
pretty youth whom Messer Pietro 
brought to paint my robe’’ — and 
she peeped out from under her hair 
at the old woman who had grown 
pale through the brown parchment 
of her skin and whose fingers 
trembled more than was their wont. 

‘¢ A bold, ill-bred varlet!’’ she 
muttered; but Ottavia had sprung 
up with flashing eyes. — 

‘* What do you say?”’ she cried. 
‘‘Know, then, for your slanders, 
he is noble and brave and beautiful 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and I shall marry him and — and — 
I love him.” 

The fires of anger were dying 
before the flood of tears that rose 
close to quench them, her lip trem- 
bled, and the nurse, who had tot- 
tered back from the outburst, drew 
near again and took the girl, shak- 
ing now with suppressed sobs, in 
her arms. 

‘* There, there, sweet one,” she 
crooned. ‘‘ It is old Monna Cecca 
shall nestle her pretty bird; but 
surely she knows that her gracious 
father will not brook such thoughts. 
The youth is a pretty boy, but it is 
not such an one as he that is for 
the daughter of the Baglioni.”’ 

‘‘Did you not see,” whispered 


omy 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 

Ottavia, ‘‘how bravely he looked 
at me while my father stood at 
gaze? —and, oh! Monna Cecca, 
have they killed him for it? Do 
not say they have killed him!” 
and she burst into a tempest of 
weeping. 

‘“No, no; to be sure they have 
not killed him,” mumbled the old 
woman, scarce knowing the words 
her lips formed. ‘‘ Why should 
they kill him? It is those they fear 
or who have the things they desire 
' whom the falcons rend. He is 
but a poor student to whom your 
race would not deign to bend for 
vengeance, more than will you, their 
daughter, incline for this foolish 
love of which you prattle.” 


eS 


Q 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* Where is he, mother, if he be 
not dead ?”’ 

‘* Saints ! child! and how should 
Monna Cecca know of that)” | 

‘*Oh! then he is indeed dead, | 
and you will not tell it, and I 
shall die too, lke La Gnuulietta. 
They say there was never a lack 
of poison and daggers in this house, 
and surely a very little will serve 
for me.” 

‘¢« Listen now to the foolish one ! ”’ 
cried the old woman; ‘‘and she 

| will kill herself for a sprig of a boy 

who has doubtless each day looked 
love with his bold black eyes at a 
score of peasant girls and trades- 
men’s daughters. They are all one 
to such as he.” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* Then it is I that will kill him,”’ 
said Ottavia, softly. 

‘‘Dio mio!” ejaculated the old 
woman. ‘‘ But aye, that would 
be better — ”’ | 

‘«Ah, but he is not looking at city 
maids; and no, I would not kill him. 
I would think of him no more. Iwill 
think of him no more, mother, if you 
let me but see him once again — only 
once. Who knows better than you 
that we of the Baglioni do not throw 
ourselves lightly to any man? He 
| seemed a pretty youth, but, when 
I see him again, I do not doubt 
I shall detect an hundred faults, 
so that if you humor a little whim 
you shall save me from a great | 
sorrow — and from death.” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


The words had burst forth as a 
flood, and Monna Cecca stood dazed, 
with open mouth, while the girl 
clung to her and kissed her. Then 
she gasped : 

‘¢Saints! What manner of mad- 
ness is all this? It is yourself that 
your father would slay then, and 
for poor Monna Cecca there would 
not be enough racks in all Italy to 
tear her old joints apart. Is this 
maidenliness ?”’ : 

She tried to look stern, stroking 
| the girl’s head. 

‘« Surely itis, mother, for I swear 
to you that I will not so much as 
speak to him: that he shall not 
know it is I. It is only to see he 
is alive and to teach myself that he 


[ 70 


] 


CHAN 


ae 4 policy 
SAAT 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


is nothing tome. Is not that wise ? 
And we shall arrange it— oh! so 
cunningly — shall we not? And it 
will be rare sport, and I shall be 
happy, and you, too, because I am, 
and perhaps I shall marry the Mala- 
testa after all — eh?” 

She paused again to take breath, 
and Monna Cecca, with half-closed 
eyes, was nodding her head slowly. 

‘¢ Swear to me,’ she said at last, 
‘that you will not speak and that 
he shall not know you if I contrive 
it. Oh! but this is folly and vain 
words |.” 

‘Yes, truly, and also I will swear 
that I shall not kill myself. I will 
not swear that I will marry the 
Malatesta for them, but perhaps — 


° 


TON 
OSA e, wr 
WA) 
S%, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


who knows? — and all will be easy |} 
to plan, for you who are wise. 
Go now, mother, and in the morn- 
ing I will'be ready. Go, for I feel 
sleep coming to me and, to please 
you, I will try to dream of — the 
Malatesta.”’ 


MONNA CECCA AND SANDRO CONSULT 


SCARCE knowing how, the old 
woman found herself in the passage 
with the girl’s kiss still warm upon 
her forehead. She took a few steps, 
shaking her head from side to side. 

‘Ah! what folly — what folly!” 
she muttered ; ‘‘ and does the pretty 
fool count that I will lend myself 
to such madness, even supposing 
I could discover the whereabouts 
of this crazy painter's boy? Not 
but I could though, perhaps. What 
is seventy years if one does not 
have cunning, and who knows, 
after all, if it would not be the best 
medicine; and if he suspect not her 
presence, perhaps we can help him 


Me; 
A \ 
web? 


ple: 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


break the spell. Yes, yes! And 
what if, being thwarted, she should 
kill herself? They strike quickly, 
these Baglioni, and they think 
later.” 
Nodding, she went slowly down 
| the passage, down the stairs, and out 
into the court. The night’s revel 
was over, but here and there a 
bravo or scullion sprawled across 
a stone step or in a shadow, where- 
ever the last fumes of the cup had 
reached his brain. It was with a 
- purpose that she seemed to peer into 
several faces. Then she laughed. 
‘‘Not here! Folly votwmemin 
dream it. Sandro would not be as 
he is, were he like to these grunting 
skins of wine.” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Still mumbling, she crossed the 
court and mounted a narrow wind- 
ing staircase in another part of 
the building; up, up, clutching the 
rail and panting, till she stood 
before a little door near the roof 
and rapped gently. ‘Yes, yes! 
It is I can contrive it if it be 
contrivable.”’ 

The door opened after a moment’s 
pause, but only on a crack, and a 
man peered cautiously out, holding 
a lighted candle with his left hand 
~ above and behind his head. 

‘‘Wise, always wise,’ laughed 
Monna Cecca, softly, ‘‘and with 
your dagger low down in your right 
hand. Do you think an old woman 
seeks your life?” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘There have been such who 
have,’ muttered the man, with a 
short sigh of relief, and letting the 
door swing open as he recognized 
| his visitor. 

‘‘That is because you know so 
much, Messer Sandro,” cackled 
she. 

‘* Yes, that 1s because I know so 
much,”’ he said, knitting his brows. 

He was a dark man, slender and 
of middle height, dressed plainly 
in hose and doublet of brown. An 
open book lay on the narrow couch 
from which he had risen hastily 
and where, as the streaks of fresh 
candle grease on a small table at its 
head showed, he had been reading 
when Monna Cecca knocked. 


oe 


INS 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* And a student, too,” she half 
sneered. 

‘* Yes, and a student, too, if 
maybe,” he said slowly. ‘‘ You 
stand close to those that are high, 
mother. What do you wish?” 

‘*To make you richer than you 
are. Do you want money?” 

He laughed. ‘‘If it be enough 
to balance the risk. No one comes 
to Sandro unless it be to ask him to 
take risk.”’ 

‘‘And yet it is safer to play the 
spy for His Magnificence than to 
use the dagger.” 

| «That ’s as may happen,” he said 
shortly. ‘‘ What do you want?” 

Monna Cecca drew a long breath. 

‘‘Did you chance to take note 


rh] 
: OER 
SVC 


iV 


—— 
Gf, 


Se 
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7) )\ 


os 


({ 


dip 
tv rp 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of a slip of a youth who came here 
ten days gone with Messer Pietro 
Vannucci ?”’ 

‘Aye; to do work on the por- 
trait of Her Magnificence, so that 
Messer Pietro might add more to | 
his coffers with less labor? Aye, 
aye, and whence he came and 
whither he went,” and he nodded 
several times grimly. 


‘‘He lives — yet?” faltered the 
visitor. 

‘« Aye, lives and paints — yet.”’ 

‘<Listen now,” said she, 7° it 
is someone’s wish that [and another 
see him.” 


The man looked puzzled and 
suspicious. ‘‘ Let someone bid me 
as much then,” he said. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* He cannot bid you that,” she 
whispered, ‘‘—for reasons. But 
you shall have twenty ducats to 
prove it is his riches and power 
that pay the price — not I, a poor 
old woman; and you shall not so 
much as lisp even to your master 
that you do his will.” 

Sandro laughed softly again. 
‘‘What devil’s game is this?’’ he 
said sharply. ‘‘ Not a step will I 
move—no, not for an hundred 
ducats — till I see that it be not trea- 
son of some sort. Iam the Bagli- 
oni’s man and they use me, hardly 
enough the saints know; but I am 
their man. Do you see, old one?” 

‘“Yes, yes, I see, and also that 
you are a fool; but the saints 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


forbid I should balk you in your 
folly! You shall know all, and 
then it will be in your power to 
have my old bones broken if you 
wish. Mark, [ tell it you against 
my orders — against my orders.” 

‘“All one to me, so I see my 
way.” . 

‘Well then, master spy,” and she 
leaned forward, ‘‘ there was one 
came to you that day, when the boy 
went forth, and bade you keep him 
within the circle of your eyes— eh?” 

‘* And well ?”’ 

‘But you knew not why and 
you know not, and it was not 
designed you should; but J know 
because I am old and wise and 
the Baglioni trust me.”’ 


ES (CA 
roe 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘To betray their trust ?”’ 

‘* When it be necessary to carry 
out their will through fools, as 
now. 

The man shifted uneasily, but his 
face was dogged and the look of 
suspicion still clouded it. 

‘* Therefore you, too, shall know 
why,’ she went on, after a short 
pause. ‘‘It is a lady that the 
young Lord Simonetto dreams of, 
and she cast her eyes upon the 
painter boy’s curls and his black 
| eyes and his slim grace, as he 
went to and from our chambers, 
and the Lord Simonetto, learning 
quickly of the glances that flew be- 
tween them, and imagining there 
was more to it than appeared — ” 


J 


Slee 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* Would have run him through 
ere he passed the gate,” sneered 
the other. 

‘*Not so, good Messer Sandro,’ 
she went on; ‘‘ but, being wiser 
than you and knowing that such a 
thing were either needless‘an his 
suspicions were false, or the end of 
his hope an they were true, he 
had another bid you to learn about 
the youth, and now he has com- 
missioned me, who am wise and 
old, to contrive with you that the 
lady see him—herself unseen, 
mark you— with some daughter 
of the city, one that will not be 
too coy; and that, so seeing, she 
may ignore or despise him; while 
it is for me to note her manner and 


b] 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


discern whether our master’s fear 
be true or at fault. Tell me, now ; 
how shall we come to him? It is 
yours to find a girl and teach her 
her part; mine to devise some 
pretext to bring the lady, well dis- 
guised, where she shall see; and 
note, too, there is need of haste, 
for the Lord Simonetto is not 
patient — and there are the twenty 
ducats to be had.”’ 

‘* Kh-h, and so that is the game,”’ 
said Sandro, thoughtfully. ‘A 
likely one enough. Well, the 
youth sleeps in an attic, with an- 
other like him, but a short way 
from our gate. As for the day, 
he paints at San Severo; and 


pee 
iO 


MESSER ERCOLE 


THE ANGELS OF 


rae 
AY 
Monna Cecca’s face was in the 


shadow. 

‘“It is hard to compass. To 
the attic? I dare not; to the 
convent? how shall women gain 
entrance ?”’ 

The spy laughed. ‘* Monks’ 
rules bow to those of princes, and 
to our princes most of all.” 

‘« But if we go as Baglioni — ’ 

‘“S-s, s-s, [| am earning my 
twenty ducats, foolish old one. I, 
wearing the red and green hose of 
the livery of the high and mighty 
house, lead you both, veiled, dark- 
robed, and masked, to a closet 
from which a little window opens 
upon the chapel where he paints, 
and another upon the gate where 


b 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


he goes out in the evening. Trust 
me, the monks will speak no word 
to tell how we break convent rules 
} at will. You shall see him go out, 
and, at the gate, a girl—none 
| prettier in Perugia — shall carry 
him off an he will. The saints 
| grant he play his part so that the 
Lord Simonetto deem him no rival, 
for he is a gay-hearted boy, and it 
| is a pity to be killed before one 
has had one’s fly.” 

Monna Cecca was nodding her 
| head violently. ‘‘ Well, and you 
are worth your salt after all. Be, 
| then, at the little door at the foot 
of the narrow staircase behind the 
court, at half an hour before sun- 


| set. We shall join you. No 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


words, mark you! and look not 
too closely at the lady.” 

‘*T am no fool who does not know 
that the sun is bad for weak eyes: 
and the twenty ducats )”’ 

‘‘Put your hand at your side — 
when we meet you.” 

‘«That will suffice — and now I | 
am to my Messer Virgilio again. 
A fair return to you!” | 

Monna Cecca turned and shuffled 
down the stairs. All the keenness 
and strength of the last few mo- 
ments seemed to have gone from 
her and she wagged her head as 
she went. 

‘Aye, aye; I am a fool well 
enough, with all my years. It is 
for my little bird. She shall have 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


her will, and it is a sword to a 
distaff the young sprig of myrtle 
kisses the first pretty face he sees. 
Then the madness and the danger 
is past, and old Monna Cecca is wise 
again after all.” 


= Wy ay ((s a WP : >) Bee 
COS ee 
5 : Maw LX 


Vil 
THE LADY OTTAVIA HAS HER WILL 


Durine these days, observed by 
none save a few monks, the As- 
sumption at San Severo grew apace. 
It was a work upon which ‘‘ The 
Perugian”’ had done little save the 
cartoon and the heads of the prin- 
cipal figures — for the convent was 
not rich. ‘To Ercole had fallen the 
faces of angels bending down to 
welcome the Mother of their King | 
into their august assemblage, or 
bearing up her blessed form upon | 
their hands and wings; and _ to 
these the young painter had im- 
parted such beauty that the good 
brothers gazed wondering, enrap- 


tured, blessing God that He had 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


indeed permitted them to look upon 
beings from His own glorious house- 
hold depicted for His servants’ hap- 
piness and confident repose. 


A day more had come and well- 
nigh gone. 

Who but Brother Benedetto, that 
watched at the chapel gate, saw the 
three visitors who demanded ad- 
mittance when dusk was falling? 
—two women,—he knew they 
were women, despite his dim eyes 
and however closely they were 
-veiled and masked, and he knew 
well the livery of the Baglioni and the 
badge upon the breast and shoulder 
and cap of the bravo who guarded 
them. Recognizing it he trembled, 


[ 89 | 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and, when he of the high and 
mighty house whispered in his ear 
words of an appointed meeting for 
private confession in the closet 
against the chapel, Brother Bene- 
detto only nodded and pointed, as 
if eager to pass such visitors into 
other hands and presences. These 
unavoidable infractions of rules, he 
deemed, were for higher powers to 
pass upon, and if the meeting were 
by appointment— well, then there 
was no need for him to bear word 


li of it. He would confess and do 


the prescribed penance: an easy 
escape enough. 

Meanwhile Sandro led his charges 
to a little closet, and, the women 
having hurried within, he closed 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the door and stood in the passage, 
that he might bar even priestly 
interruption. 

Drawing the curtain aside, Otta- 
via looked out, trembling, into the 
chapel. 

In every corner of the vaulted 
room lay the fast gathering dark- 
ness; the paintings on the walls 
seemed vague and formless, the 
altars loomed dim in the shadows : 
but it was none of these things she 
noted. Ercole was there, and her 
eager eyes flew to him. To these 
three visitors what different thoughts 
were present. Sandro, in the pas- 
sage, thought of young Simonetto 
and wondered which lady of 
Madonna Lavinia’s household this 


ae CE VW DIN 
Oe Ome 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


was — for that she was such he felt 

well assured. Not that he cared, 
but only because it was his business 
to think such things. Monna Cecca 


waited impatiently for the hour of Sb 
Ercole’s outgoing, when he should 
surely break the charm that held her SS { 
: MG 
sweet lady so unworthily and at so A 
much peril. Ottavia thought noth- 


ing. Even her gratitude for this 
indulgent connivance of her nurse 
had left her mind. 

Ercole sat upon a low stool before 
his work, now indistinguishable in 
the gloom; his bowed head rested 
upon his folded arms, and his dark 
hair fell about his face. He sighed 
deeply. Then he turned toward 
one of the little altars; and, as he 


[ 92 ] 


GO) 
we 


—_—~ 


G 


O 


MG 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


crossed the room, the last ray of 
light, shining through a narrow 
window, fell upon a face older by 
years than when Ottavia had seen it 
last in its spirit of mingled boyish 
bravado and chivalric devotion. He 
threw himself on his knees before 
some sculptured saint who shone 
ghostly in the darkness. Several 
moments passed, and then, rising to 
his feet, he walked quickly from the 
chapel. Monna Cecca was plucking 
nervously at Ottavia’s gown. 

‘* Quick, quick now!” she said. 
‘¢To the other window with you! 
You shall see him go out by the 
postern.”’ 

Ottavia’s eyes were brimming 
with tears, and the gladness of her 


yO, 


(@) Oo 
WS 
Z) 9 
YG 


Ke 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


face, as she turned, pierced the old 
woman’s heart like a pomard thrust. 
She wondered, too, and even wa- 
vered in her hope. But no, he 
would surely fail if her judgment 
of a face and carriage were aught. | 
There had been no space for her | 
also to look through the window _ 
into the chapel; — he would fail, 
and her nursling would be happy, 
and the boy, too, would live — all 
of which was well. 

And now the young monk had un- 
_ barred the postern, and Ercole glided 
out, knowing nothing of those who 
saw him go. He was vaguely con- 
scious that a girl with black eyes, big 
and sparkling, stood before him and 
smiled and held out a flower. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 
Ottavia saw him put out his hand 


and take it with a murmured, ‘‘ May 
the saints bless you,” and she saw 


him turn aside to pass on, for the girl 
had planted herself in his path. The 
effort to detain him seemed hardly to 
break his stride, and he hurried away, 
his head drooping upon his breast as 
he walked. Astonished, Sandro’s 


accomplice gazed after him and took 


a few steps as if to follow, while 
Ottavia, at her post by the window, 
/ clenched both her hands tight. 
| Then she gave a contented little sigh 
and the girl in the street uttered an 
angry hiss and stamped her foot. 
They had both seen the flower drop 
from Ercole’s fingers as he vanished 
in the shadows of the houses. 


MESSER ERCOLE HEARS A SONG 


IN their attic that night it was 
Raffaello who laughed and chattered 
of nothings, while Ercole sat with 
deaf ears and knitted brows, pon- 
dering — ‘‘ Matters of statecraft )”’ 

Rising at last, he threw out both 
arms as if to be rid of thoughts, | 
like a dog that shakes himself, 
leaping from the water. 

‘The sky hangs low upon my 
heart to-night,” he said. ‘* What 
manner of air is this that we 
breathe )”’ 

He turned toward the door. 

Raffaello sprang up, with eyes at 
once grown serious, and laid a 
detaining hand upon his sleeve. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘« It is better to breathe this than 
to breathe no air at all.” 

Ercole shook his head slowly. 

‘“You do not truly think so,” 
he said; ‘‘ but whether you do or 
no, my demon, as your philoso- 
phers held, beckons me to the 
streets to-night.” 

‘«] pray you —” 

‘Pray for me, if you will. Per- 
haps I shall go to the Casa Baglioni. 
Is it not to-night they play the 
‘Orfeo’ of the Florentine ?”’ 

He spoke with a ring of defiance 
in his voice. Then it softened, and 
he went on dreamily : 

‘“It was the poor Messer Orfeo 
who lost his love because he could 
not forbear to look upon her. I, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


too, am minded to look, and if the 
Baglioni be as cruel as the wicked 
Prince Pluto, I promise you I shall 
at least return with her to the 
shades.” 

‘Tt is madness,” cried Raffaello. 
‘*Then this madness and I are 
one.” 

They stood facing each other: 
Raffaello, alert, seeming to weigh 
in his mind what argument or force 
might check the project; Ercole 
with the inlooking eyes of one in a 
trance—a sleep-waker. Suddenly 
he turned, sprang through the door- 
way and, hurling it to behind him, 
dashed headlong down the stair. 
Raffaello, lulled into a sense of 
safety by the mood or craft of his 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


friend, scarce gathered himself to 
follow until the footsteps rang dis- 
tant on the stones below. 

Then he too rushed down and, 
reaching the street, paused, gazing 
right and left into the hurrying © 
crowd. He ran toward the Casa 
Baglioni, but the pikemen stopped — 
him and forbade his passing before 
it, lest his feet should soil the © 
rich carpets spread there for the 
guests. He dared not cry out, or 
even ask questions that might draw 
attention and excite inquiry. Real- 
izing, at last, that his friend, sane 
or mad, had escaped him and 
must take what chance the saints 
sent, he returned slowly to their 
attic, minded now to prayers for 


DESI 
=N 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole’s safety and again to curses 
upon his folly. 

Meanwhile the truant, divining 
that Raffaello would pursue in the 
other direction, ran up toward the 
corso and, paying little heed to 
the anger of those he jostled, soon 
reached the main street of the town. 
There, feeling safer against pursuit, 
he turned toward the piazza and 
held his way at a more moderate 

ace. 

Ercole had spoken truly of his 
desire to escape the burden of 
oppressive thoughts. No definite 
plan had prompted his act save the 
one wish to go out under the sky ; 
only his defiant threat that he 
would go to the Casa Baglioni, to 


VZZVIq aHL NI NIVINAOY ONVSIq aH], 


POE 


PO, 
Peace 


RIE 
sesamiae. 


¥ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


- Ottavia, had thrust the idea into 
his head, and now it kept surging, 
surging there with each pulse of 
blood that seemed to fill his skull 
to the bursting. Yes, he would go, 
he would see her; why not? Who 
should stay him ? only how? how? 

He had reached the piazza at last. 
The crowd was dense enough, 
though less so than in the narrow 
streets that led to the houses of 
the Baglioni. He made his way 
toward a group clustered about 
Pisano’s fountain, whence came 
the music of a lute and a voice 
singing the words of a villotta. 
Something in their sadness, so 
foreign to the sentiment of rustic 
dance songs, attracted him; but 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the peasants and town rabble sensed 
none of this. So be the musician 
marked the time well, they danced 
and laughed and exchanged ribald 
jests and were content to give him 
| coppers. 

Ercole listened. The singer 
seemed a man little older than 
himself, with clothes that were at 
once gay and old and very clean. 
He was repeating the song now at 
the command of his patrons : 


| ‘* Many there are who when they hear me sing 
_ Cry: There goes one whose joy runs o’er in song; 
But I pray God to give me succoring, 

For when I sing ’t is then I grieve full strong.” 


‘«It is I could sing villottas were 
it only grief that bred them,” 
thought Ercole. He drew nearer, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and at that moment the dancers 
seemed to weary ; the music ceased, 
and, casting a few coins into the 
musician's cap, they moved away. 

As the man took the money Ercole 
looked at him more closely. Surely 
his were the motions of the blind, — 
ah! yes, and now he remembered 
that he had heard Raffaello tell of 
such an one who had come in 
from somewhere on the country- 
side — perhaps from the North — 
he could not recall. 

His eyes wandered to the fountain 
that lay clear for a moment in the 
glare of the torches and cressets, and 
he fell to tracing the reliefs carved 
there : brave deeds of King Saul and 
King David and the holy prophets 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of God’s word, and, strangely min- 
gled with them, pictures of the 
quaint scenes of which that wisest 
of pagans, Messer /Ksop, had told. 
A feeling of kinship in sorrow 
seized upon him and, going up to 
the singer, he took his hand. 
‘“Do you not know, friend, 
how beautiful is this fountain by 
which you sit? Come, it is the 
touch shall tell you”’; and setting 
the blind man’s fingers to the heads 
and limbs and drapery, he guided 
him slowly along the outlines. 
‘‘They are smooth and daintily 
rounded, truly,” murmured the 
other, ‘‘ but, oh! they are hard 
and cold, like the rich and great.” 
And then, touching Ercole’s cap and. |I{¢: 5) 


1} 
SOOKE 


ea) 
WAS y 


(Oe Gy C02} KOI 
Wo 7, SID AVS ZING RE Ae 
; S 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE > 
shoulder with his free hand: ‘‘ But 
you, too, are of the noble —of God’s 
truly noble, mayhap, who love the 
poor and the unfortunate.”’ 

‘*That is to tell me that I love 
myself,’’ said Ercole. ‘‘ What is a 
full belly and a gay cap and cloak, 
if one have not his desire? ”’ 

‘* Yet there are those whose need 
of cloak and food is so great that 
they have no thought of other 
desires,’ said the blind man. 

Ercole paused and leaned on the 
fountain. Suddenly an idea flashed 
through his brain. 

‘<If you say it,” he cried, ‘‘ we 
shall help each the other to his 
wish. I think, now, that I have 
need of your clothes and of your 
[ 105 ] 


)} : ESE SS) 
HO 


IE 


Gara 


LIE 
PAS 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


lute there, and in return for them 
you shall have mine, together with 
my purse, which I warn you is not 
heavy. Nevertheless you will gain 
by the bargain.” 

‘Yes, surely I will gain.” There 
was both wonder and something of 
suspicion in the voice. 

‘It is for a masque I would 
have them,”’ said Ercole. ‘‘Come, 
we shall seek a doorway in some 
dark street. Come quickly” : and, 


| drawing the musician after him, 
| he led the way out of the crowd 


toward the older portion of the town, 
where stood the ancient Arch of 
Augustus. Here were few prying 
eyes, and the shadow of the wall 
offered shelter and concealment. 


Tue Ancu or AuGustus 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


The change of costume was soon 
completed. The blind man fingered 
the purse and passed his hands over 
the texture of the brave finery that 
was now his, still as if doubtful of 
his fortune. 

‘¢It is the worth of ducats, the 
beautiful clothes,” he said. 

Ercole snapped his fingers. 
‘« What is that, so I am for to-night 
the blind singer of the piazza? Be 
here to-morrow at this hour and 
_ perchance you shall have your lute 
again. If I do not come, the purse 
will pay you for it and for the loss 
of a day.”’ ? 

Slowly the man’s sluggish 
thoughts seemed to grasp fully the 


purpose of his benefactor. 


ie) 


‘¢ You must walk slow and halt- 
ing,” he said, ‘‘ and yet less halting 
than one might think, for we who 
are blind learn to feel much of the 
nearness of things that we do not 
see or touch.” 

Ercole struck the strings of the 
lute. His borrowed garments fitted 
him as well as such clothes are apt 
to fit their last wearers. ‘‘ Come,”’ 
he said, ‘‘ where now shall I lead 
you before I go?” 

The blind man laughed sharply. 
‘« Truly if they saw you leading me 
thus on the street, there would be 
talk of miracles. You had best 
leave me to find my way, as I have 
found it for all these years. Have 
a care you find yours as well, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


q 
(Gs, s 
\aress 


ne 


EZ 

ye 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 

and take heed that it end not ina 

narrow house.’ 

‘¢ That is all one asks when one 
comes to sleep,’ said Ercole, and 
then, shaking himself free from 
dark thoughts: ‘‘The saints hold 
us both in their keeping! Until 


to-morrow, friend.” 


OM CAN MWS? yo x 
ee are 


THE BLIND SINGER SEES THE «‘ORFEO” 


Erc OLE turned and made his way 
down the street, the lute slung over 
his shoulder, his hands stretched 
out as if to feel his path, his eyelids 
drooping until he saw but dimly a 
short stretch of pavement before his 
feet. When he had regained the 
piazza he seated himself by the 
fountain, and, taking the lute in his 
hands, tuned it and essayed a Tuscan 
dance song. 

In a moment idlers had paused 
and drawn around him. Perhaps 
their memories were not critical ; 
perhaps they neither cared nor 
thought who piped, so they danced 
to the piping: but their - easy 


SIE 
RPACAS 
Dy Tall EAN 


Q 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


acceptance of him in the character 
he had assumed and the touch of the 
coins they left in his battered cap 
filled him with a confidence that — 
until then he had not felt. il 

When his patrons had sported | 
their fill and swept on to new — 
merry-makings, he again slung his | 
lute upon his back and turned his 
halting steps toward the palaces of | 
the Baglioni. 

One precaution he had taken 
through all his doings of the night : 
his short townsman’s sword still 
hung at his side, caught up a little 
higher so that the droop of his cloak 
might hideits incongruous presence. 

It was a slow way to the spot he 
sought—a way suited of necessity to 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the progress of a blind man through 
crowded streets. Time and again | 
he came against those rushing in 
the opposite direction, and his words 
of explanation and apology brought 
curses or laughter, or perhaps 
coins, as the temper and sobriety 
of the others might prompt; only, | 
through it all, he gained in practice 
of his part and in self-reliance. 
Once, even, he had been forced to 
stop and play, but the street here 
was too crowded for dancing, and 
the revellers soon dismissed him. 
At last the more closely packed | 
people and the guard of pikemen 
told him he was near the centre of 
the festivities, but, as if unseeing, 
he pushed on. 


ea Ny 
Ne ne 


SQ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘Stand back there!’ cried a 
friendly voice. ‘‘They will spit 
you like a gosling!”’ 

Ercole still groped his way for- 
ward, half thinking each moment 
to feel the point in his bosom. A 
hush in the babble of the crowd 
seemed to presage some such event. 
Then: ‘‘Hold! do you not see 
he is blind?” came from several 
directions. 

He was conscious of a pike raised 
before his advance, and a rough hand 
fell upon his shoulder. 

‘This is no festa for blind beg- 
gars! Get you to the rabble!” 

Ercole fell into the professional 
whine of the craft. 

‘‘And is it not to-night when 
[ 113 | 


eee 


SQ etsy | 


, 


lie 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


our most noble princes will that 
all shall be happy, rich and poor? 
Who knows but that, in receiving, 
I may add something to their enter- 
tainmment or to that of the gallant 
gentlemen who wear their livery ? 
Even you, good captain, might be 
the gayer for a song.”’ 

He could feel the fellow relax 
at the words ‘‘ gentleman” and 
‘* captain.” 

‘*Ho!’ he said, with a short, 
| embarrassed laugh. ‘‘ It is some- 
| thing for old Gianbattista to be 
thought noble and a captain, even 
by a blind man.”’ 

‘* And is it not the blind who 
feel the true nobility of the char- 
acter,’ said Ercole, ‘‘since they 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


have no eyes to see the badges and 
fine raiment in which knaves mask?” 
He had unslung his lute as he spoke. 
‘« Shall [ not strike a chord for your 
magnificences ? ”’ 

Evidently the bravo’s mood had 
softened, for he said nothing, and 
the voices of those around seemed to 
be hushed in acquiescence. Ercole 
began the carnival song of Lorenzo 
de’ Medici that runs to the refrain, 


‘¢ Fair is youth and void of sorrow, 
But it hourly flies away, 
Youths and maids, enjoy to-day, 
Nought ye know about to-morrow.” 


The crowd grew very quiet; the 
charm of his voice seemed to draw 
them into sympathy with the spirit 
of the verse, and when he sang 


oe Oe. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘None but thankless folk and rough 
Can resist when Love beguiles,”’ 


the roughest nodded in _ pleased 


acquiescence. With the strain: 


«See this load behind them plodding 
On the ass! Silenus he, 
Old and drunken, weary, nodding, 
Full of years and jollity, 
Though he goes so swayingly, 
Yet he laughs and quaffs alway:” 


then the crowd laughed and _ beat 
time with their feet; and they 
shouted their approval at the 


‘«Midas treads a weary measure, 
All he touches turns to gold: 
If there be no taste of pleasure 
What’s the use of wealth untold? 
What’s the joy his fingers hold 
When he’s forced to thirst for aye?” 


At last came the closing stanza : 


GUS 
4 SE SBS 


IM ‘S Ra RRO) OF 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘Ladies gay and lovers young! 
Long live Bacchus, live Desire | 
Dance and play: let songs be sung ; 
Let sweet love your bosom fire ; 
In the future come what may! 
Youths and maids, enjoy to-day.” 

A roar of applause followed the 
song. He who had halted the mu- 
siclan spoke now ina soft voice. 

“Tt is a pity, friend, that you 
know only with your ears the beau- 
ties you sing. Go now where you 
please. There may be those within 
who will take joy from you.” 

With a new and different rough- 
ness that seemed assumed to hide 
any show of feeling, he pushed 
Ercole through the line of guards, 
and the singer found his way, 
unchecked, to the entrance of the 


= ve 


SS 


BINGO 


“Af 


IWS 
oA 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


house, where, mingling in the crowd 
of servitors who thronged the gate- 
way, he pressed boldly on into the 
court. 

Once in, it was easy to slip behind 
those who were thrusting forward 
most vigorously, and to seek the 
shadow of a wall, whence he might 
steal a glance about him without 
hazarding notice; not a safe risk, 
at the best, for the whole space 

blazed with lights. 
| At the farther side a scaffolding 
had been erected and hung with 
rich velvets and damasks with inter- 
woven coats of arms. ‘Temporary 
wooden galleries occupied the three 
remaining sides, thronged with the 
rich and great: beautiful ladies and 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


proud nobles; friends, allies, secret 
enemies of the Baglioni and the 
Orsini, blazing with jewels, brillant 
in many-colored silks and satins. 
Ercole dared not seek too openly 
for her face, but he imagined that, | 
being of the near kin, she would be 
somewhere in the gallery that faced 
the stage. Then, gradually, he grew 
bolder, noting how absorbed in the | 
spectacle before them were all the ser- 
vants, retainers, and favored towns- 
folk who packed the court below. 
He had heard often of this Messer 


Angelo Poliziano — how his won- 


derful masque had been first done |h 


near twenty years ago at Mantua, | 
for the pleasure of the Cardinal 
Francesco Gonzaga; and here, now, 


K( 
Q 


7 cA 
4 oy 
ENy a ee 
OS 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the fable was again played and sung 
for the Baglioni and their guests. 

It seemed that the piece must 
be wellnigh over, and, filled with 
his own thoughts, he listened, but 
half heeding its tale, yet he started at 
such lines as those Mnesillus sang: 


‘¢Mark ye how sunk in woe 
The poor wretch forth doth pass ”’ ; 


and then Orfeo himself, at the gate 
of Hell, voiced his plaint : 

«Pity, nay pity for a lover’s moan! 

Ye powers of Hell, let pity reign in you! 

To your dark regions led by Love alone, 
Downward upon his wings of light I flew. 
Hush, Cerberus! Howl not by Pluto’s throne ! 
For when you hear my tale of misery, you, 


Nor you alone, but all who here abide 
In this blind world, will weep by Lethe’s tide.” 


Ercole found himself stealing 
furtive glances to right and left, 


[ 120 | 


eee 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


doubtful, almost, whether the pecul- 
iar aptness of the sentiment were 
not aimed expressly at his unmask- 
ing and whether all around must 
not, of necessity, realize who he 
was and wherefore he stood there. 
Then suddenly he awoke to the 
absurdity of his apprehension and 
smiled to himself. 

At that moment a man pushed 
against him, as if trying to force 
himself to a better point of view, 
and, in quick resentment, Ercole 
turned instinctively to see who it 
was. Then, conscious of the un- 
guarded movement, he tried to 
cover it by swinging his head as 
quickly to the other side. Had the 
fellow noted the slip? Ercole had 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


marked that he was of middle height 
and slender, dressed in plain brown 
hose and jerkin and wearing no 
weapon but a dagger. His eyes had 
remained fixed upon the stage, as 
if so absorbed in the show as to be 
unconscious of his offence and of his 
neighbor's presence; and the blind 
singer, while he allowed the sense of 
relief to calm his anxiety, took coun- 


sel with himself for greater caution. 

Meanwhile the masque was draw- 
ing to its end and the wild chorus 
of the meenads rang out: 


‘© With ivy coronals, cluster and berry, 
Crown we our heads to worship thee. 
Thou hast bidden us to make merry 
Day and night in our jollity ! 
Drink then! Bacchus is here! Drink free, 
And hand ye the drinking cup to me.” 


ple omees 
WE 


oR 


Dye 


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8 


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f 
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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Throughout galleries and court 
the audience was one with the per- 
formers: eyes sparkled, cheeks 
flushed, and lips parted, if not to 
join in the song, at least in eagerness 
to obey its welcome precepts. Love 
and wine and the dance: such was 
the strain wherewith to woo Peru- 
gia; and when the last lines died 
away with their 


‘¢ Bacchus! we all must follow thee. 


Bacchus! Bacchus! ohe! ohe!”’ 

eries of delight burst from all sides. 
Stage and players seemed for a 
moment as if they must be covered 
and overwhelmed with the flowers 
and gold and jewels that were 
hurled upon them. 

In the uproar and confusion 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole ventured again to look about 
him in a vain effort to find her face 
in one of the galleries. He began 
to fear she was in that directly 
above him and to see which he 
must make his way across the 
court. Was his adventure with all 
its peril to end only in this added 
consciousness of nearness? That 
was much; but he sought more. 
It was to see her that he had 
played the game _ to-night, — to 
see her, even amid the circle of 
her kinsmen and worshippers, for 
surely all men were the one or the 
other. Yes, he would not fail of 
his desire; he would cross the court, 
pretext or no pretext, discovery or 
no, for soon, perhaps even now, 


[CS 


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AAY ee 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


they would be leaving the galleries 
for the dancing in the great hall, | 
where he could not hope to follow. ||, 
He started to push in front of his 
neighbor who had jostled him a few 
minutes past. Then he felt the 
man’s hand on his arm and heard 
| him say in a low voice: 

‘‘Where would you be going, 
friend? Who knows but the saints 
will give me their favor if I lead 
Christ's blind.”’ 

Ercole hesitated, startled into an 
instant of confusion; but he saw 
the hopelessness of pursuing his 
quest if he would preserve his 
disguise. 

‘*Our Lady grant you mercy !”’ 
he murmured, ‘‘God has given 
[ 125 | 


(PEGS 
\( ee Dee 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the blind to find their way without 
sight — since they must.”’ un 

‘‘Aye, but in a press like this 
it may happen that he overlook 
them,’ pursued the man. Was 
there a flavor of irony in the fellow’s 
voice ? 

‘*T seek the street,’ said Ercole, 
‘¢s9 there be no more to hear.”’ 
Further demurring could but lead 
to suspicion, if it were not already 
aroused. 

His conductor was now guiding 
| him through the crowd, holding 
fast to his arm, and Ercole closed 
his eyes in the knowledge that seem- 
ing reliance was the safest and only 
course. Winding, stopping, turn- 
ing,—even the sense of direction 


ox 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


soon left him. Torches and cressets 
had set the court aglare. It was 
darker now ; and surely there was a 
chill deeper than under the broad 
archway that led into the street. 
‘‘Where go we, friend?” he 
asked, holding back a little as if 
doubtful of his steps. 
His guide spoke reassuringly. 
‘‘It is a secret way that leads 
without hindrance where we seek. 
Since you are blind there is no 
harm that I lead you by it.” 
Ercole felt the stone walls on 
either side of him, and went on, 
since to show reluctance meant only 
greater peril. Then came descend- 
ing steps, circling round and round, 
that made the heart sink equally, 


o KK 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


as the body seemed to go down into 


the earth. 

‘‘Where go we?” he asked again. 

There was no answer, but he felt 
himself pushed forward and heard 
the clang of a door behind him and 
the shooting of abolt. Safe, at last, 
in the consciousness of despair, he 
opened his eyes and looked about. 


NN 
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—~ 


BENEATH THE CASA BAGLIONI 


ERCOLE had feared to find only 
blackness, but a dim light, as of 
moon or stars or distant torches, 
came through a little grated window, 
or ventilator, near the top of the 
room. Apparently it opened into 
some smaller and inner court of the 
building, for no hum of voices or 
sound of footsteps told of the 
revellers he had left behind him. 
Fully eight feet from the floor, this 
window of his afforded little out- 
look unless one leaped up and held 
himself by the bars. That, he 
thought, might be done later. 
Otherwise the room was, at least, no 
dungeon of the worst sort. It was 


By 
EN 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


small and the stone of the walls 
was covered with plaster, while a 
rough pallet with a blanket thrown 
over it offered much better comfort 
than was whispered of certain prison 
chambers in the Casa _ Bagliont. 
Escape, to all appearances, seemed 
quite beyond the possibilities, and 
now, with failing fortunes, the spirits 
of Ercole rose. Had he not the 
blind man’s lute for companion 
of constrained idleness, and _ his 
| own sword for brother-in-arms 
| should desperate emergency arise ? 
Surely they three were not such a 
wretched company, happen what 
might. 

An hour, perhaps two, drifted 
by. He had been thinking of many 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


things. It was darker, now, in his 
prison, doubtless because the light 
of the illumination had died down, 
and only the two or three stars he 
could see when he came close under 
the grating told of a world without. — 
He rose and paced slowly up and 
down the narrow quarters, accus- 
toming his eyes to the gloom. Sud- 
denly he caught or seemed. to catch 
the sound of whispering, and, halt- 
ing close to the door, strained his 
ears to listen, wondering vaguely 
at their acuteness. Everything 
seemed so black and so still save 
the two voices—he knew that 
there were two, a man’s and a 
woman’s. Soon even their words 
became distinguishable. 


LZ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


ZZ 
Q 


‘Perhaps it will be safe for him 
to go now?” he heard the woman 
say, and his heart gave a great leap ; 
but no, that was not her voice, and 
the man answered : 

‘« S-st, s_st; be patient, mother. 
The night is long, and the hours 
here will serve to cool the boy's 
blood. He is a pretty boy enough 
and a brave one, though a fool. 
There were eyes he knew naught 
of watching him in the court, and. 
it was not in my mind to let him 
run his head into the noose.”’ 

‘*You area kindly knave, Sandro; 
and who knows but there will be 
more gold coming to you for this — 
night’s work.”” The woman’s voice 
sounded more of a mumble than 
[ 132 | 


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“ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of a whisper, but her companion 
silenced her. — 

‘« Yes, yes, that is well,” he said 
sharply ; ‘‘ always gold for the spy. 
We shall see — ”’ 

‘‘Aye, gold and blessings with 
it; blessings that go not too often 
with the gold you earn—”’ 

ees | 

The voices suddenly became still, 
and Ercole, recognizing the friendli- 
ness of his unknown visitors and 
listening hard to hear the bolt 
drawn, became aware in a moment 
of a new sound, as of some distant 
commotion. | 

‘Holy Virgin!” whispered Monna 
Cecca. There was terror now in her 
tones; and then from Sandro: | 
[ 133 ] 


N(OFMSENGOOLZS 


L hy NO) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘“We must fly, and quickly. 
Only the saints know who 1s abroad 
here to-night. Pray your gentle 
Lord; Ghrist)/— 7 

The sentence died away, and 
Ercole heard the quick shuffle of 
their feet as the man seemed to 
drag his companion along the corri- 
dor. Then the new sounds took 
form: the hurried footsteps of 
several men coming down the pas- 
sage from the other direction, and, 
now and then, a ring as of some 
/ weapon striking against the wall. 
There seemed, too, a suggestion of 
confusion and unevenness in their 
approach, as if they were carrying 
or dragging some body. Certainly 
there was little attempt at silence, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


for, as they halted before the door 
of Ercole’s prison, he heard harsh 
voices raised in excited discussion. 
The words were of litthe moment 
to him. From the accents he knew 
the speakers were men of the rough, 
peasant class from which the great 
houses drew their lowest, staunch- 
est, and most unscrupulous re- 
tainers. He would learn their 
purpose soon enough now, and he 
drew back into the darkest corner 
of the room, sword in hand, but 
with the blade swathed in his cloak 
so that no ight might glint upon it. 
A second more and the _ bolt 
grated, the door was dashed open. 
Asingle torch without threw its light 
upon a confused group of perhaps 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


half a dozen men among whom a 
struggle of some sort seemed to be 
going on. He heard blows, curses, 
groans. 

‘Tickle his ribs well, Jacopo.” 

‘« There ! there too! and again!” 

‘‘ Laugh merrily now. It 1s our 
jest that strikes home.” 

Several men had spoken almost 
together. Someone seemed to fall 
forward, as if pushed or thrown by 
the others, and crashed down in a 
heap in the middle of the floor. 

‘* So, now! Let him lie and eat 
of his sins,” said one. 

‘‘And come, Beppo; we will 
drink of yours,’”’ laughed another. 

They had neither looked for nor 


seen the other occupant of the | 


a 


AE NUN 
LO SiOs u 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


room. ‘The door was drawn to, 
and the hope that had flashed 
through Ercole’s mind died down 
as he heard the bolt shoot. 

‘‘The fools, to lock in a dead 
man!” he muttered. Then he 
smiled at his own indignation. 
Doubtless bolts were shot by habit 
in the Casa Baglioni, whether there 
were seeming need or no. 

One thing, first of all, was to be 
done. Something lay before him 
on the stone floor, horrible in its 
stillness, its silence, and its shape- 
less outlines shadowy in the dark- 
ness. He must know if it were 
still a man or only clay, 

The footsteps of the retreating 
bravoes had died away in_ the 
[ 137 


| : 
Se anys 0 Yh 0 We 
ae ee 


O 


leas 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


corridor, and Ercole glided out 
and, kneeling, felt eagerly for heart 
and pulse. No faintest flutter met 
the touch of his hand, and he drew 
it back wet and trembling. He 
had a companion now in his prison, 
but that companion was a dead 
man, murdered by the bravoes of 
the Baglioni. Why? To think of 
reasons opened a field of conjecture 
hopeless in its vastness. Still, an 
examination might disclose some- 
| thing, and he turned again to the 
| body. 

The clothes were not fine: that 
was evident. Therefore the poor — 
wretch had not been a gentleman, 
— some gay rival of a fiercer wooer. 
He had his purse still, with a few 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


coins in it, which seemed to bar > 
robbery as a motive. Weapons? 
The searcher could find none, but, 
as he rose and stepped back, his foot 
struck against something that slid 
noisily upon the stone. A moment, | 
and he held in his hand a short, stout | 


dagger witha sharp cutting edge and _ |/4 


a rough file-like back — such a knife 
as he knew thieves often carried, 
useful alike to cut flesh or iron. : 
Here, then, was the story. This 
fellow had gotten no more than his 
deserts: a cutpurse, in all likeli- 
hood, who had worked his way 
into the show to ply his craft, and 
the victim now of rude justice, that 
differed little in its execution from 
the crimes it punished. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Suddenly a new thought leaped : 


into Ercole’s mind. Was not this 
weapon and tool, half knife, half 
file, fashioned expressly to cut 
through bars like those that fenced 
the window of his cell? To think 


was to act, for every moment might. 


bring new peril. 

With the dagger in his teeth, 
he crouched low under the win- 
dow, and, springing up, caught the 
bars. Winding one arm around 
them to hold himself there, he 
grasped the hilt in the other hand 
and drew the file edge across the 
iron. A few strokes showed him 
that it was tempered well for its 
work. 

He could see out now into the 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


court that lay above him and be 
sure that it remained empty, that 
no one came within hearing of the 
low gritting of the file that was 
winning his way to freedom. Yet 
it was necessary to work cautiously, 
to press hard and draw the blade 
slowly across the bar. 

One was severed, now, at the lower 
end, so that it could be bent up. 
Two, he measured, would give space 
enough for a slender fugitive like 
him to slp through; but his arm 
was numb from sustaining his 
weight, so he dropped to the floor 
and rubbed it back into life. Then 
he sprang up again. 

The pain of the drawn and com- 
pressed muscles came quickly this 
[ 141 | 


WY Es 


O 


Geen 


aI Qa 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


time, but he clenched his teeth and > 
struggled with the second bar until 
it also was cut through. All that 
remained was to regain his strength, 
to leap once more, bend the two 
loose bars back and pull himself 
through into the court. Thence 
there would be at least a fair chance 
to reach the street. 

While he was resting for this 
final effort, voices and footsteps 
again came to his ears. Now 
| was no time to take chances of 
| friends or foes. What must be 
done must be done at once, and 
he sprang toward the window, draw- 
ing himself slowly up and pushing 
with all his strength against the 
severed bars. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Gradually they bent outward, and, 
writhing and struggling, he forced 
himself through the broadening 
space. That much was over. His 
clothes were torn and soiled, his 
hands bleeding, and every muscle 
ached, but he was under the stars 
at last;—not many, to be sure, 
for the court was small and the 
walls straight and high, but free 
for such better or worse fortune as 
might befall. 

Turning back toward his prison, 
he quickly bent the bars into their 
places again, and, as he did so, he 
heard the bolt creaking. Friends 
or foes? and if neither surely the 
latter. He need not wait now to 
learn. Gliding swiftly around the 


YAS 
ES 

WAY S\ 
QUE OO) <G \ } 


GO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


court, he sought an outlet, unable 
to locate even its general position 
in the mass of buildings. 

At last he came to a low vaulted 
passage and, with his sword in one 
hand and the thiefs knife in the 
other, he pressed forward into the 
darkness. His lute had been left 
in the prison chamber, as being 
much too awkward a burden for so 
hazardous a venture. Suddenly his 
foot came against a step. 

Peering closely into the darkness 
and feeling carefully about, he 
made out at last a double continu- 
ation of the passage; one branch 
of which seemed to lead up a very 
narrow staircase, the other, down 
one equally confined. 

[ 144 | 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Down or upwas hardlya question. 
The one could lead only to store- 
rooms or dungeons; the other — 
surely ‘‘up’’ combined both the 
rational and the propitious, and he 
pushed on, counting the steps as 
he went. 

He had mounted twelve when 
the path became level once more, 
and, better yet, a dim light, as of 
the night, but brilliant to the tan- 
gible darkness around, now shone 
to guide him on. A moment more, 
and he looked out upon the main 
court with its stage and galleries 
and rich hangings, ghostly in their 
emptiness and silence and weird, 
shifting shadows. 

Guards there seemed to be none, 
[ 145 ] 


i) tu 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and, keeping close to the wall and 
under the gallery, he made toward 
the archway leading to the street, 
his heart beating fast at the nearness 
of liberty and safety. 


[ 146 ] 


RAs 
LOGS 


MESSER ERCOLE SAYS A PRAYER 


Pp AUSING an instant, before he left 
the shelter of the shadows, Ercole’s 
eyes sought once more around the 
enclosure. Were there a porter at 
the entrance, a quick rush or, at 
the worst, a sword thrust should 
win by him. Lights still shone 
from several of the windows high 
up in the opposite wall. A flood 
of emotion filled his soul. 

Ah! what manner of lover was 
he! He had perilled much only to 
be near her; and now, in all these 
hours of present danger, in the 
loneliness of prison, in the excite- 
ment of the suspended stroke of 
fate and the joy of escape, surely it 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


was her sweet spirit that had guarded 
him. He had relied on his own 
strength and cunning, on blind for- 
tune; he had plunged, thoughtless 
or enwrapped, into the absorbing 
allurements of the game of life and 
death, heedless of the protection of 
a love whose servant no steel could 
pierce, no fates perturb. Self- 
abasement, remorse, devotion, 
deeper, stronger, more enveloping 
than ever, filled and suffused his 
whole being. Once before he had 
ascended that stair which gleamed 
white, now, across the open space, 
in a ray of the moon. Yes, he 
would mount it again, if only to cast 
away the safety he had won so un- 
worthily ; — for penance, for joy; 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


to seek her door and kneel before it, 
to proclaim his unworthiness and his 
faith, to pray God and the gentle 
Christ and all his glorious saints to 
hold her in their keeping. Surely 
a prayer uttered at the peril of life 
must avail more before the court 
of Heaven than those fair-day peti- 
tions uttered in chambers ere we 
close our eyes to safe and easeful 
rest, intoned in church and cell with 
the perfunctory fervor of avarice or 
habit or ennui. 
| He stepped out boldly into the 

moonlight, driving his sword into 
its sheath and slipping the dagger 
under his belt. 

Straight across the court and into 
the entrance opposite lay his course ; 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


up the stairs that grew darker as 
| he mounted. What need of see- 
ing? Only once before had he gone 
up and down, yet every step, every 
turn lay clear in his mind as if 
trodden a thousand times. 

No one barred his way. The 
house slept, more soundly, perhaps, 
because the gods who hold lovers 
in their keeping had won the gods 
of sleep to their aid. 
| He was near her door now. No 
| lamp or torch relieved the dense 
| gloom, but he knew it well, and 
with hands stretched out before him 
he touched it with the tips of his 
fingers. Beyond that barrier sweet, 
virginal sleep held sway, and, here, 
he — how unworthy even to petition 

[ 150 ] 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


God for her safety! He sank down, 
resting his brow against the oaken 
panel, his hands clasped above his 
head, and his heart spoke. 

‘““Ah, Mary! Gentle Virgin! 
Who but thou shalt keep purity in 
thy hand? safe from the arrows of 
fate, from evil men, from me, who 
kneel here for thy grace! Mary ! 
Bride of Heaven! Mother of Jesus! 
grant now to my peril her joy; to 
my death, if thou so will it — ”’ 

Slowly the door opened before 


|| him, and a glory seemed to flood 


the passage. Ercole bent lower 
amid the divine effulgence. It was 
life that was going from him now 
—ah, how gladly! the offering ac- 
cepted, the price taken — 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘©T knew you would come: that 
you were here.” 

The voice that spoke was very | 
low and sweet. He raised his eyes | 
slowly in his ecstasy, and saw her 
standing there within reach of his 
hand, her bright hair flowing down, 
her lips smiling, her eyes sad and 
troubled yet full of a tender joy. 

‘IT knew you were here,’ she 
said again, but he only gazed as in 
a dream and murmured : 

‘* Yes, here.” 

Was it the Lady of Heaven in 
Her likeness? Surely God was very 
merciful. 

‘‘It was to pray for my safety 
that you came?” she went on. 

“| Yes, tO prdyam 

[ 152 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘T am very happy for such 
prayers.” 

Ercole put out his hand slowly, 
hesitatingly, and, bending forward, 
touched the edge of her robe with 
his ips. Then he drew back and 
they looked full and long into each 
other’seyes. No question had been 
asked; no answer given. What 
need of words to those whose hearts 


lie open to be read? How vain the 
protestations of lovers, the seekings, 
the vows ! 

At last she spoke again, in the 
same low, even voice. 

‘You must go away now. You 


? 


will come again.’ 

‘Yes, I will come again.”’ 
Why was there no thought in his 

[ 153] 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


mind save of obedience? Why were 
there even no words of when and 
how? Surely all such things seemed 
very little. It would be to-morrow, 
it would be after many years, it 
would be, perchance, in God’s City. 
What did it matter? He would 
come again and she would be glad 
of his coming, and all the time that 
fell between, were it moments or 
ages, would be nothing at all. 

He rose slowly to his feet, half 
| turning away, and yet with eyes 
| fixed upon her face. Step by step 
he fell back. That which he had 
first dreamed to be a glory, the light 
of lamps from the room, dwelt about 
and caressed her as she stood look- 
ing after him into the darkness. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


He was far down the stairs now, 
and his face was bent resolutely upon 
his way, yet the brightness seemed 
to go before him, as it did before 
the people in the Wilderness, and 
she seemed to put out her hand 
from it and take his hand, leading 
him gently. They had passed out 
into the court, — across it, to the 
archway. He did not see the por- 
ters sleeping there, for his eyes 
were still upon her, and he walked 
firmly, without thought of danger ; 
yet the men woke not. Then his 
feet felt the pavement of the open 
street, and he passed his hand across 
his eyes, for she was gone, even as 
he stood before his door; and, when 
he mounted the stairs and entered, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Raffaello looked up, with a troubled 
face, from the book he sat reading, 
and looked long and said nothing, 
and Raffaello knew also, as Ercole 
knew, since all hearts were open 
to-night for a miracle that had never 
been given of God and would never 
be again. 

So he fell asleep, and his com- 
panion came over and looked down 
at him and bent his head and smiled, 
thinking of the wondrous grace and 
of things that were and things that 
were not, and of what men call folly 
and what, wisdom, knowing nothing 
of the one or of the other. 


GIANPAOLO VIEWS A FRESCO 


; s Two weeks had passed. Ercole 


| was painting late one afternoon, for 
the light of the declining sun shone 
| well through the high, narrow win- 
dows, gilding the forms and colors 
into grander outlines and richer 
| tints. Suddenly a commotion at 
the door caused him to turn. The 
| monks were thronging in. 
| ‘The Perugian!” they cried. 
| «*The great Vannucci! He is 
| coming |” 
Not since Ercole had taken up 
the work had the Master visited San 
Severo. Perhaps it was a regard 
for his pupil’s safety, the fear lest 
his coming might be tracked, that 


[ 157 | 


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fo 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


kept him away; perhaps only the 
stress of other engagements or the 
festivities of the season. Ercole 
had not given the matter much 
thought, and was entirely willing 
to credit Messer Pietro with the 
less selfish motive, considering only 
the good fortune that he was come 
at last, since but few touches re- 
mained, and these for the most 
part ones especially reserved for 
the Master’s hand. Now he was 
standing there in the doorway — 
| walking slowly forward into the 
apartment — while Ercole, cap in 
hand, turned to study his face for 
approval or condemnation. What 
he saw was strangest of all. First, 
a flash of admiration, of joy, that 


SLE 
SAM ATTA 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


| lighted up the harsh features like 
| an aureole; then a sudden pallor 
that drove all else before it, and 
the man seemed to stagger back, as 
if from a blow, his knees trembling, 


his hand to his brow, his eyes resting — 


first upon the painting and then 
shifting to Ercole with a gleam of 
abject terror in their depths. 

‘Unhappy boy, what hast thou 
done ?”’ 

Then Ercole, dazed, astonished, 
looked long at the picture, and, 
| awakening suddenly, knew that all 
his beautiful angels were but so 
many faces of Ottavia Baglioni. 

Noises came up from the street 
without, the sound of voices, of 
trampling feet, but Pietro Vannucci 


° 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and Ercole da Passigno stood like 
men spellbound, and the brothers 
whispered, wondering, one to 
another. An acolyte entered the | 
room, running, and delivered a 
hurried message into the prior’s 
ear, but neither the Master nor the 
pupil heard it. Then the old monk | 
turned and spoke aloud, with a face 
in which much of gratification 
seemed overshadowed by something 
of anxiety. 

‘‘We are indeed honored, my 
brothers, as is our son here, Pietro | 
Vannucci, whom the holy St. Luke 
has blessed in such high measure. 
Our house— God’s house and that | 
of the holy San Severo — is about 
to receive a noble company of 


ESO 
eee 
Woe ss (SS) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


signors, who are come to view the 
new painting, and greatest and 
noblest of all, the gentle prince, 
Gianpaolo Baglioni — ” 

Vannucci started as if stung, but 
Ercole’s face grew calm, and he 
turned, with folded arms, facing 
the door. Nevertheless this stand- 
ing forth against the falcon was not 
to be permitted. Whether from a 
motive of self-preservation or from 
some sudden impulse of kindness, 
Vannucci sprang upon the young 
man, and, grasping his slender form 
by both shoulders, whirled him side- 
ways toward a wall through which a 
low doorway seemed to lead to some 
inner part of the convent. A quick- 
witted brother, seeing the eagerness 


BMS 
Aes SIE SOON 
MNS 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of the action, had half instinctively 
thrown open the portal, and before 
Ercole could realize what was hap- 
pening, he found himself in a dark 
passage with the door slammed to 
behind him. Then the grim humor 
of the situation came to him — his 
would-be pose of defiance, its crush- 
ing anticlimax from a dramatic 
standpoint —and he shook with 
suppressed mirth. Surely, too, 
there must be laughter in Ottavia’s 
eyes ? — kindly laughter that gained 
| way the more freely because it was 
his safety that had been compelled. 

Meanwhile, in the room from 
which he had been so unceremoni- 
ously ejected, there were no signs of 
levity. Prior and monks had stared 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


thunderstruck at the pantomime. 
| That the situation was, for some 
reason, serious, they readily divined : 
why and how were the puzzles; _ 
but it was not difficult to conjure 
up a score of perils which the | 
approach of the terrible Gianpaolo 
might call into being. 

And now that prince himself 
stood in the entrance, while ‘‘ The © 
Perugian,” having regained the 
centre of the room, was bowing low 
and trying to regain the breath of 
which his unwonted exertion had 
wellnigh deprived him. 

Gianpaolo’s eyes wandered slowly 
around the hall; not exactly as if 
seeking some one, but with a dreamy 
deliberation : then he acknowledged 


Oe 

a yp: 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE : WS 
slightly but gracefully ‘‘ The 
Perugian’s’’ salute, and glided 
forward with the springy, catlike 
tread peculiar to the man. At- 
tendants and pages were clustered 
near the door, the prior had scarce 
recovered self-control sufficient to 
give his ecclesiastical greeting to his 
visitor, and the monks still stood 
at gaze like a flock of frightened 
sheep. 

The Baglioni spoke in_ tones 
softer than velvet : 

‘‘T have been informed, good 
Messer Pietro, of the picture you 
are doing here — that it is wonder- 
fully beautiful, and I have come to 
see it. I am informed of many 
things.” 


OE. 
() 
(Oy, CFR 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Despite his anxiety there was 
yet a measure of gratified vanity 
in the painter’s mind, and he tried 
to persuade himself that, perhaps, 
| after all, the visit might have 
no further significance than that 
alleged. For words, however, he 
used such as would best express his 
pleasure and surprise at the compli- 
ment and the honor done him. 
Gianpaolo interrupted his flow of 
speech, smiling, but with some 
shortness. 

‘“Ah! good Messer Pietro, we 
know you are not always so hum- 
ble as you choose to seem. Why 
should you be, for that matter? 
Is not a great artist the peer of 
princes ? and I have been told you 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


would not hesitate to thwart me, if 
our wills ran counter. You are a 
brave man, Messer Pietro. But 
come, he added, hastily, ‘‘let us 
look upon the fresco;’’ for Van- 
nucci seemed again attacked by 
symptoms of perturbation. 

‘«It is even before your Magnifi- 
cence,’’ he said, standing a little to 
one side. | 

Full fifteen minutes, that were a 
very age, passed while Gianpaolo 
took in every detail of the com- 
position. Not the slightest change 
of expression crossed his face to 
tell of discoveries and their effect, 
though Vannucci watched him as 
closely as he dared. At last he 
turned full to the painter, and, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


looking him straight in the eyes — 
like the thrust of a lance, said: 

‘« Tt is most praiseworthy, Messer 
Pietro — the composition, the draw- 
ing; and yet in smaller matters it 
seems to me to bear too much the 
marks of pupils’ work. Take the 
word of a soldier, mio caro, when he 
warns you that danger lurks in trust- 
ing much to others: a robe, perhaps, 
to a young man, but not a face. | 
would advise you,’ and he drew 
closer and lowered his voice, ‘‘ to 
correct certain faults yourself — in 
this Assumption. A citizen corrects 
inanimate things, lest his prince 
correct those that are animate.” 
His voice was again taking on its 
milder tone. Then, glancing once 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


more at the picture, he added: 
‘‘ Nevertheless, your pupil seems 
a youth of much promise. If he 
live, I shall look to entertain him 
as a great artist some day—at 
Spello.”’ 

Bending his head slightly, for the 
prior’s blessing, he passed out; the 
door closed behind his company, 
and Pietro Vannucci felt himself 
reeling like a knight in a joust, 
who, while he had kept his seat 
after a manner, had yet lost stirrups 
and rein at the shock of his oppo- 
nent’s lance. 

There were a few moments of 
breathless silence — listening for re- 
treating footfalls and for the creaking 
and crash of heavy oaken doors ; 


PON 
i fe) 


iin 


BO) (BAZ 
CAS 


—_—S 


A 


QO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the picture was forgotten, and no 
man dared address his neighbor, 
for fear the words might be ill- 
advised. At last Vannucci, gliding 
over to the low doorway through 
which he had thrust Ercole, opened 
it and whispered his pupil’s name. 
An answer came from the black 
depths beyond. 

‘‘Greeting to you, my Lord 
Gianpaolo! Is it that I shall come 
out and have my throat cut? or will 
your Magnificence enter and do it 
here? I am fairly enough snared, 
for this unhappy passage buts against 
a wall — ”’ ; 

‘« Silence, fool!’’ hissed Vannucci. 
‘* Thou knowest well itisI. There- 
fore come out and be silent, else it 

[ 169 | 
ICY 


oO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


were better to wall up the passage 
at this end also.” 

Ercole stepped out, blinking, but 
with an undisturbed air, and Van- 
nucci, grasping him by the arm 
and motioning the prior to follow, 
pulled him away, heedless of the 
bulging eyes and open mouths of 
the monks, whose conventual repose 
had been so rudely broken in upon 
by such unwonted and unimaginable 
occurrences. 

‘“Take us to your cell, father,’ 
cried the painter, when they were 
out of hearing, and the prior bowed 
his head meekly and led the way. 
Then, as they entered the narrow 
{} room with its plain whitewashed 
4) walls, Vannucci went on eagerly : 


? 


LK 
Pra 


° 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘Is he safe here? Can you keep 
him until nightfall ?”’ 

The prior turned his eyes upward. 
‘‘Who can tell in these days, my 
son? When legates of the Holy | 
Father are imprisoned or cast out — 
of the city, what is it that the 
Baglioni respect? I shall strive 
with prayer and secrecy to hold 
him safe, but I warn thee do not 
trust us too long —if thou desirest 
him living and they, dead.”’ 

Vannucci had turned to Ercole, 

and spoke with more feeling than 
he had ever shown, a feeling which 
his gruffness of manner but faintly 
masked : 

‘¢Thou arta fool, boy. Were it 
not for thy good father’s sake and 


ee eS) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


because thou art a worthy pupil I 
would not interest myself in so 
dangerous a matter. To-night this 
marriage will be finally celebrated, 
and perhaps Gianpaolo will think 
to leave thee until the morning. 
Raffaello will come here when 
the streets are dark — Raffaello has 
sense —and will lead thee to thy 
lodgings by the lanes that lie close 
to the wall. I am convinced that 
the place is unknown, or thou hadst 
been food for foxes long ago. Yet 
why he neglected to have thy path 
noted! It is unlike the race — 
unlike him most of all —”’ 

The prior spoke up, interrupting: 
‘* It is God’s will, son, that the race 
of the violent wax heedless in the 


BO} (CBAHZ 
SIE 


G 


ly, 
x 


(ay 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


surety of their power. The Lord 
Gianpaolo may say, ‘The young 
man is nothing. If— when — it 
pleases me, I shall find him easily 
and slay him —after the wedding- 
day has passed : —after the wedding- 
day has passed,’” and he fell to 
mumbling: ‘‘Who knows what 
days may pass? what days come? 
and who shall live to see them? It 


is violence and murder that rule 
in Perugia, and their legates are 
its lords, while the legates of that 
Lord who dwells in Heaven are 
cast out, despised, ill-treated, as 
was He, Himself; yet were Jeru- 
salem and her proud ones brought 


99 


low — 
He started and roused himself 


[ 173 ] 
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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


from his reverie, for Vannucci 
and Ercole were kneeling for his 
blessing, that the former might de- 
part to lay his plans for his pupil’s 


escape. 


A DREAM AND A FESTA 


"THE Perugian”’ had gone, the 
prior withdrew to attend to some 
duty of his office, closing the door 
behind him, and Ercole remained 
alone in the little cell. 

He had ceased thinking or plan- 
ning; his hfe had come to be 
a dream wherein his own will had 
no bearing upon his acts or his 
fortunes. Even in his art, did he not 
paint that which no sentient volition 
| prompted? All was fate : he would 
do nothing; he would live or die 
as the forces that controlled his 
destiny might provide: meanwhile, 
he would sleep, for sleep was dearest 
of all to him in these days, being 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the true dreamtime, when he could 
at least deceive himself into a re- 
alization of power and place and 
presence equal to his heart’s desire. 

Hardly for a moment had he 
knelt at Ottavia’s feet, for the way 
had been long to where she waited 
his coming, when a hand upon his 
shoulder called him back to waking 
consciousness and to the knowledge 
of sordid danger. Raffaello stood 
by the prior’s pallet, and in his 
arms were fantastic gowns and 
masks. Ercole gazed, wondering, 
in the dim light. 

‘‘For you, mio caro,” said the 
newcomer. ‘‘It is the Master 
sends them, that we may walk un- 
noted among the revellers. Once 


y C4 
YGRS 


Q) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


at our lodgings, he thinks you may 

be safe for a few days, and then, 

who knows but that we can arrange 
| for your escape! ” 

While Raffaello spoke, Ercole 
groped his way back to the world 
of men, — had bade adieu to golden 
eyes and hair, and had seen his 
mistress, with her finger to her lips, 
fade from his vision. He was to 
live for her; not to die: that was 
the last message of her eyes; and, 
springing up, he donned the carnival 

\|| gown and mask. 

In the corridor, by the door of 
his cell, they found. the good prior, 
who blessed them while they knelt 
before him. Then he went ahead, 
and, with hisown hands, drew the bar 


[177 ] 


S 
wih 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


and latchet of the little postern, and 
watched them go out into the night. 

Aye! but was it indeed night? 
All Perugia seemed to blaze before 
their dazzled eyes: every window 
flickered with lights, every house 
was hung with lanterns that threw 
their brilliant illumination over the 
| chains of roses that festooned the 
streets. No iron chains now barred 
them against men-at-arms. Were 
not the Oddi destroyed? and who 
| else should threaten the proud name 
| of Baglioni, that celebrated to-night 
the nuptials of one of its most gal- 
lant princes with a‘ daughter of the 
greatest house in Rome ? 

At every corner oxen were roast- 
ing whole and casks of wine had 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


been broached that the people might 
join in the revelry of their lords. 
Many an invitation was extended to 
the student maskers to tarry and 
jom some merry company. The 
hands of young men sought to drag 
them from the shadow into the 
light; the laughing eyes of girls 
flashed light into the shadow: all 
was jollity and good-fellowship, and 
it called for a strong purpose and a 
ready diplomacy to push on without 
sullering dangerous delay or giving 
still more dangerous offence. 

It was Ercole who, seized by his 
oldtime spirit of recklessness, was 
ever the readiest to yield; and it 
was Raflaello, with nothing to fear 
save for his friend, who heaved a sigh 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of heartfelt relief when at last they 
came in sight of their own threshold. 
The stricken chords of harp and lute 
and viol rang from the palaces a few 
steps beyond; voices of the hired 
singers, applause, laughter. Who 
was there to note the masked and 
cloaked figures that stole along under 
the shadows of the housesand slipped 
into a low portal? Was not all 
Perugia full of cloaks and masks to- 
night ?— aye, and the shadow of 
masks through which gleamed fierce 
eyes and of cloaks beneath which 
lurked sword and poniard hung over 
the city, and the Baglioni feasted and 
caroused and made love, and the 
friars prayed for the souls of men 
in the convent of San Severo. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Raffaello and Ercole were safe 
now in their little attic under 
the rafters —as safe as one could 
be in Perugia whose blood had 
caught the scent of its savage 
lords. They had thrown aside 
their disguises, had talked long 
together, until the noises died slowly 
away and the lights faded out. 
Then each had lain down upon 
his oaken chest, seeking the in- 
vigoration of sleep that would not 
come. 

‘‘How quiet the city is now,’ 
said Ercole, after a long pause. 
‘“Do you sleep, Raffaello ?”’ 

‘*No, truly ; sleep seems coy to- 
night, though I woo her faith- 


’ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘« She is a jade,” said Ercole, and 
laughed. ‘‘I chide her not, though. 
She knows well that to me she is now 
no more than a waiting-maid sent 
to lead me to my beloved, and who 
shall blame her if she chooses to 
resent the rdle— Hark! was that 
the cry of the watch? Did you 
catch the hour ?”’ 

‘« Watch to-night —in Perugia ? 
What are you dreaming of ? — that 
there is another man in the city as 
sober as we two?” 

‘¢ There is the noble Astorre.”’ 

‘¢Drunk with love and beauty.” 

‘¢ And the ‘beautiful Simonetto.”’ 

‘‘Drunk with envy of his cousin.” 

‘Ah! but the gentle lord, 
Gianpaolo?”’ 

[ 182 | 


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THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘T said man. He is a tiger, and 
tigers are not drunken save on blood. 
Fifteen days of revelry have at least 
served to keep his dagger in its 


sheath.” 


Cahe\ 


KE wi ARN 


SOK 
a7) G a 
Ne Gin NOR 


Or 


Kyle 
«THE GREAT TREASON” 


A. SHRIEK rang out through the 
night, and the students started from 
their couches. Then pandemonium 
broke loose; the air was full of 
cries: commands, exhortations, 
curses, and screams of agony. 
There was the rush of feet — yes, and 
the clash of steel, but all seemed 
deadened, as if they came from a 
distance or through thick walls. 
Ercole had lighted a taper, half 
instinctively, but Raffaello threw it 
upon the floor and |placed his foot 
upon it: the moon, nearly full, shone 
through their skylight, and each saw 
the other’s face, white and drawn. 
Their chamber had no window 


| nothing to do but wonder and 
wait. 

And now the noise and confusion 
had increased, was increasing with 
every moment. Had Pope Alex- 
ander declared war, and was Duke 
Valentino surprising and storming 
Perugia? or had the Oddi risen 
from their graves to repeat the 
| attempt of five years ago? They 
heard hurried footsteps on the roof 
and grasped their swords. Murder 
was in the air, and their skylight 
offered but a feeble barrier. Still, 
those would be hardy men who 
descended — one at a time, as must 
be. Their pulses began to leap 
fiercely at the thought of fighting. 

[ 185 ] 


(oe 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Then a shadow came between them 
and the moon, and, looking up, they 
saw a man bending over, as if try- 
ing to open the shutter. In an 
instant Ercole was himself: mystery 
and vague terrors had given place 
to something tangible, and he sprang 
to draw the bolt. 

Raffaello caught his arm. 

‘«In the name of the saints, do not 
open! Itissome murderous bravo.” 

But Ercole shook him off. 
+ <*Jt is a fugitive,” he cried. 
| ** Were he come to kill, he had 
broken through glass and frame: 
he who would fly safely, must leave 
no sign of his passage.” 

The window flew open, and a 
man sprang lightly down into the 


Ve: 


or 
ay 
S is ab 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


room. Ercole closed and fastened 
the shutter: then he turned, saw 
his comrade staring with open 
mouth at their unexpected guest, 
and knew that he had admitted 
Gianpaolo Baglioni. 

‘* You will pardon my disturbing 
your rest,” said Gianpaolo, softly. 

He and Ercole stood confronting 
each other, the latter with face 
tense drawn and white, the former 
with calm eyes in which no spark 
of recognition seemed to dwell. 
The moon again shone through the 
skylight, and the terrible sounds 
from the neighboring houses and 
the street came fuller and faster. 

Gianpaolo unwound his cloak, 
which had been trussed about his 


oe 


SO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


left arm, and laid his naked sword on 
Ercole’s bed. Sword-belt, sheath or 
poniard he had none, and he stood, 
dressed only in his shirt and close- 
fitting hose, a model of power and 
slender grace. Then he said: 

‘It is a fugitive, signors, that 
you see. It is your lord who 
demands aid and succor against 
traitors and parricides.” 

‘*The noble Guidobaldo Monte- 
feltro, Duke of Urbino, is my lord,” 
began Raffaello, proudly; but 
Ercole, now cool and collected, 
interrupted : 

‘“Nay, is it not he who is unfor- 
tunate that is always the lord of a 
brave man?’ Then, to their guest: 
‘* Against what disaster must your 


VOSIR 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Magnificence take measures of 
defence ?”’ 

An expression not easy to read 
lay in Gianpaolo’s eyes, that were 
regarding Ercole from beneath half- 
closed lids. 

‘*] thank you for your courtesy,” 
he said, ‘‘ but, truly, I know Little 
of what has happened. We had 
| retired for the night, after our feast- 
| ing and merrymaking, until [ was 
aroused by cries, and saw Gian- 
francisco della Corgna and my beau- 
tiful cousin, Grifonetto, and Messer 
Carlo of the Cock’s Beard bursting 
into the room with drawn swords. 
It was but a moment to slip into the 
chamber of my good squire, Maraglia, 
and shut the door. An instant 


Dara SQ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


later it too was burst open, but we 
| were out on the staircase; the hall 
below seemed full of bravoes, and 
Maraglia bade me fly over the house- 
tops while he held the stair with his 
pike. To stay was to die with him, | 
to escape was to live and avenge his 
death: that seemed better to us 
both,” and the speaker ground his 
teeth in unspeakable rage, while 
his eyes blazed with a fury that 
| seemed demoniac. The subtlenoble 
was gone, and the furious beast of 
| prey stood before them, trembling 
as if for the spring. Suddenly he 
grew calm. 

‘It is for you, Magnificence, to 
plan and for us to follow and aid,”’ 
began Ercole. 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘« Listen, my good youth,” said 
Gianpaolo, as if the other’s words 
had gone by him. ‘‘ Could I but 
pass the gates and reach the country, 
— Spello — Marsciano, I would take 
quick measure of vengeance. It is 
now, while they kill my people in 
their beds, that the walls are un- 
guarded, and with a student’s gown 
and a little bread —’’ 

Ercole was already dragging a 
gown from the chest, while Raffa- 
ello went more slowly to pack the 
contents of their slender larder in a 
small pouch. 

‘‘Conceal my sword until I 
return,’ said Guanpaolo, as_ he 
bound the short, townsman’s blade 
to his side; and Ercole hid the 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


beautiful weapon in a bundle of 
clothes. Down the stairs they 
passed, Ercole leading, and through 
the dark halls: the street was full 
of lights, and of surging and excited 
crowds that had little time to note 
who came and went. Hence it 
was easy to slip away amid the 
confusion. 

At one point, where the press 
was thickest, they saw four corpses, 
naked and gashed with wounds, 
that had been thrown out upon the 
pavement, and lay there, majestic © 
despite all, in the goodliness of 
masculine beauty —the terrible 
beauty of their race. 

‘* Brother, uncle, two cousins,” — 
murmured Gianpaolo, gripping 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole’s arm with a grasp that well- 
nigh forced a cry from his lips. 
He could not see the fugitive’s face ; 
but he saw that the dead men were 
the lords, Guido, Astorre, Gismondo, 
and Simonetto, and he thanked the 
saints that the fury of Gianpaolo’s 
eyes was hidden beneath the close- 
drawn hood. 

Then it was that Ercole witnessed 
some measure of the subtlety of 
princes. Laughing, jesting, ques- 
tioning and answering, now with 
the careless air of a stranger, now 
with the eagerness of a gossip- 
monger seeking information, Gian- 
paolo pushed his way through the 
mob, each moment leaving the bands 
of murderers farther behind. 


SO 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘‘H[a! it is the griffin that tears 
at its own breast to-night,” he cried, 
touching Ercole’s shoulder. ‘‘The 
prey may be safe for a while. — 
That is good for quiet men and 
honest citizens. Come, let us back | 
to our beds.” 

Several around them laughed, but — 
Ercole felt his blood run cold under 
the hand upon his arm, though the ~ 
voice that had spoken rang true. 

The crowd had grown thinner 
now, and, as they approached the 

| Gate Borgnie, the streets became 
deserted. Guards — all — seemed 
to have hurried into the town to 
ascertain the reason of the tumult, 
and they found no one save two 
soldiers that had kept their post. 
7 [ 194 ] 


ma 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Gianpaolo stepped up to one of 
these and, throwing back the hood 
of his cloak, bared his face and 
head. 

The man peered at him, leaning 
forward, and Ercole loosed his short 
sword in its sheath; but the fel- 
low had dropped upon his knees, 
trembling. 

open me the gate,” said 
Gianpaolo. 

The warder beckoned to his com- 
| panion, and together they threw off 
| the chains and bars, and rolled the 
heavy gate back upon its pivots. 
Then they stood silent, still trem- 
bling. Gnuanpaolo watched them for 
an instant with head slightly bent, 
considering doubtless the wisdom 


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WZ 
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Sy ww 


a! EK 2 WZ Des 
HOV seo ON 


a7, b 
INA 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of killing both. He could see that 
they were much better armed than 
himself and Ercole; and he felt, 
perhaps, that he could not altogether 
depend upon the latter’s aid. His 
reliance, therefore, would have to 
be only in the chance of a surprise 
and on the terror of his name. 
‘You are faithful to my house?” 
he said at last. 
‘*To the death, Magnificence.”’ 
Gianpaolo smiled slightly, think- 
ing perhaps of his deliberations of 
| a moment past. 
|  ** You will aid me,” he went on, 
‘in a matter that requires haste 
and secrecy, and that brings high 
reward. Have you horses near?” 
‘« But a few steps hence.” 


LEN SEIN VO 


ae KANE OSS Mi aN 
a ) Oe 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* How many ?”’ 

‘* Three, — that of our heutenant 
and two others.” 

‘« Bring them at once. You shall 
attend me,” he added, to the man 
who had spoken least; while the 
other, followed by Ercole at a sign 
from Gianpaolo, ran behind the 
guardhouse to where the horses 
were stabled. A moment later they 
returned ; Gianpaolo threw himself 
upon the leutenant’s charger, and 
motioned the silent warder to mount 
the better of the remaining two. 
Grasping the third horse’s rein, he 
thrust it toward the gate and pricked 
it deep with his sword. The animal 
sprang forward, lashing out with 
its heels, and dashed headlong down 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the steep road. Then, turning to 
the other soldier who, with Ercole, 
was watching open-mouthed, he 
said: 

‘* You have a free tongue, friend. 
Remain here, bar the gate, and tell 
your officer that this comrade of 
yours took advantage of the con- 
| fusion to steal the horses and fly 
into the town, hoping, no doubt, 
to escape by another road; and 
that, being alone, you dared not 
leave your post at such a time to 
| pursue him. The tale will doubt- 
less stand, and you shall have equal 
reward with your fellow. If it be 
disbelieved, you will only die, as 
you would also if you failed or 
betrayed me.’’ Turning to Ercole, 


A View or THE Via Appia 1n PERuGIA 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


he went on: ‘‘I had debated taking 
you with me, but it holds no advan- 
tage, and the greater the company 
the more readily are they tracked. 
Doubtless, too, you are not unwill- 
ing to delay the pleasure of a visit 
to Spello. I will make you my 
acknowledgments — on all our ac- 
counts — when I return.”’ 
Wheeling his horse, and still us-- 
ing his sword for a spur, he rode 
out, calling to the man he had 
selected and bidding him gallop a 
few paces in advance. Ercole and 
the last of the gate-wardens looked 
at each other for a moment. Then 
they closed and barred and chained 
the heavy portal, after which the 
soldier mounted to the watch-tower, 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


with his face pale and thoughtful 
in the moonlight, while the student 
hurried away into the shadow of 
the streets, thankful that it was not 
his office to answer the questions 
of the returning guards. 


ae 


GIANPAOLO COMES BACK TO PERUGIA 


AS Ercole drew near his lodgings, 
he saw that the excitement had 
increased rather than abated and was 
spreading out like a fan to new 
quarters of the city. Once or twice 
he was stopped and questioned by 
men who seemed to be guarding the 
streets that led into the little square 
where he lived, but his insignificance 
and his manifestly studious calling 
saved him from the serious trouble 
that had beset others. Here and 
there he saw corpses stretched out or 
huddled in the gutter, and in several 
of the faces whereon the torchlight 
shone more brightly he recognized 
well-known retainers of the house 


WIG 
ane 


ee 
oD 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


of Baglioni. At last he reached his 
door, and, with a sigh of relief, 
mounted hastily to his attic. 
Raffaello also had his story to 
tell. The search for the escaping 
Gianpaolo hadbeen thorough, though 
| belated, and their quarters had not 
been overlooked. He had been 
questioned closely, and had denied 
any knowledge of the outbreak or 
the fugitive, explaining how his 
companion had gone down into the 
| street to learn what was happening. 
| With the exception that his was 
one of the skylights through which 
the fleemg man might have de- 
scended, no suspicion attached, and 
the pursuers had carried their in- 
quiries and search elsewhere. Then 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


his anxiety had shifted to Ercole, 
and he greeted his safe home-coming 
with a warm embrace. 

‘sAh! mio caro,’ he cried. 
‘« Surely the saints watch over you ! 
You are safe now, for a time at 
least.” 

‘“And why not for all time?” 
cried Ercole, gayly. 

Raffaello looked puzzled. 

‘‘Do you imagine,’ he said, 
‘that the Prince Gianpaolo will 
not return, and that there will not 
be such a throat-cutting as Perugia 
has seldom seen ?”’ 

‘¢ And what of it? Am I—are 
we not the saviors of his life ?”’ 

‘*Do you dream that will stay 
him from pursuing his policy?” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


said NRaffaello, scornfully. ‘‘ The 
French and Germans call our Italian 
princes cruel and treacherous, 
because ours is a statecraft that 
clumsy foreigners cannot compre- 
hend. Were you an aid to Gian- 
paolo Baglioni, he would feast and 
honor you though you injured and 
sought to slay him a hundred times ; 
if you stand in his path, he will put 
you from it though you had saved 
his life a thousand.”’ 

Ercole had listened thoughtfully. 
Then his face brightened and he 
said : 

‘‘Listen, now; you are both 
right and wrong. He will not slay 
me, because he will not consider 
me sufficiently dangerous. He will 
[| 204 | 


PENT CEN (ESOS 


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JN 


BY (QDHAZ 


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LN 


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wy; 


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( 


think to temporize by banishing me 
from his states. Thus, being duly 
accredited by injuries, I shall go to 
the Holy Father and Duke Valentino 
and win their interest: they shall 
welcome me as a well-born man 
who hates the Baglioni and knows 
their defences and resources; we 
shall lay plots, until I come again 
and take Perugia into my hand and 
give it to Duke Valentino for his 
share, reserving only the Princess 
Ottavia for my own. Yes, and I 
shall not be unmindful of your inter- 
est, my Raffaello.” Then, brand- 
ishing his sword, he strutted about 
the little attic, giving orders for 
battles, executions, and festivities 
to clouds of imaginary soldiers, 
[ 205 | 


HOS 


Oo 
C\ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


| retainers, and memials. Suddenly 
he sank upon a stool, elbow on 
knee, chin in hand, his brow 
seamed with wrinkles of profound 
thought. 

‘¢Ah! my sweet brother, the — 
exiled Duke of Urbino, is welcome | 
at our court,’’ he said, bending his 
eyes upon Raffaello, who had watched 
his extravagances with a little con- | 
tempt, more surprise, and, finally, 
with something of amusement. 
‘We have considered your petition 
and have determined to restore you 
to your duchy. Will you have the 
usurper, Guidobaldo, slain? or will 
you imprison him and wed his 
daughter? I will grant you your 
choice, though I beg you to be 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


merciful, for this same Guidobaldo 
has deserved well of art —”’ 

‘*A truce with nonsense!” 
interrupted Raffaello, laughing. ‘‘It 
is nearly day and [ would sleep.”’ 

‘‘Ah! brother, then you are 
indeed a philosopher and I love you 
the more,” cried Ercole. ‘‘ Min- 
ions! harken to the wisdom of the 
good Duke Raffaello and learn from 
him moderation. Having the choice 
of all boons, he selects sleep. Out 
of our presence —all of you! Me- 
thinks I too will join him;” and 
Ercole, putting aside his outer gar- 
ments, lay down with much dignity 
upon his straw pallet. ‘‘ Brother, the 
Prince of Perugia is going to visit 
his bride, the Princess Ottavia. | 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Your Magnificence may consult your 
wishes — so they be silent ones.”’ 

And Raffaello laughed and _ fol- 
lowed his friend’s example. 

Then came a day of terror and 
disorganization: men lay close in 
their houses and whispered tales of 
the great treason, and how the 
falcons had been stooped upon by 
their own brood. There was old 
Filippo da Braccio, lording it un- 
easily, and Carlo Barcigha Baglioni, 
and the ruffian, Jeronimo della 
Penna, and the Corgnas, with the 
young Grifonetto at their head, and 
the Lord of Camarino in the back- 
ground plotting and instigating the 
whole. These were the powers of 
the moment, but where was the 


CMe NG ny) =O 
Siig 


NZS 


~O 
) 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


power that was to be? Gianpaolo 
hadescaped. Soon he would return 
with others of his house: Gentile, 
Adriano Morgante, Marcantoniofrom 
the baths at Naples, Troilo from 
Marsciano. Then, what would be- 
come of feeble conspirators without 
the mind or the credit to organize 
rebellion into government ? 

Thus whispered the citizens in 
their places of retirement, and thus 
muttered the assassins and bravoes 
now that their lust of blood was 
cooled in its gratification, and they 
knew indeed what they had done 
and what others would do. One 
by one they hid away or, slipping 
out of Perugia, fled, until the time 
when Gianpaolo came back under 


O\ 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the banner of the golden bar, with 
the men of Spello and Marsciano 
and Bastia riding in his train; and 
Grifonetto went out alone and met © 
him near to the Hospital of the 
Misericordia, and Gianpaolo, haying 
pointed his sword at the throat of 
the noble youth, turned from him, 
saying: ‘‘Art thou here, Grifo- 
netto? Farewell with God's peace: 
I will not slay thee, nor plunge my 
hand in my own blood, as thou 
hast done in thine.” Then the 


| men-at-arms ran him through, and 


he lay stark, slender, beautiful, a 
wonder to all who saw; and Gian- 
paolo rode on through Perugia and 
slew right and left—even to the 
altar of the Duomo, until its steps 


Maponna Anp Saints or Luca SiGNORELLI IN THE Duomo 


A\ 
Md] 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


ran blood, and the blessed Madonna 
of Luca Signorelli wept tears of 
horror from where she sat with 
Saint John and Saint, Onuphrius 
and Saint Stephen. 

So the gentle prince, Gianpaolo 
Baglioni, took away the corpses, 
and washed the altar and the aisles 
and the steps with wine, and held 
a new service of consecration in the 


Duomo, and draped his salons and 
dressed his retainers in black, while 
everywhere upon the palazzo were 
| hanging the heads of traitors, and 
their portraits and arms reversed 
on little shields. Thus the Baglioni 
returned to Perugia. 


HIS MAGNIFICENCE HAS HIS JEST 


‘THROUGH all these days Raffaello 
| and Ercole had lain quiet in their 
lodgings, sallying forth only for 
food. At first the latter had been 
full of impossible plans and plots, 
| but when he learned that the Lady 
Ottavia was safe, though closely 
guarded, he listened to his friend's 
prayers, humoring his whim that 
he would stand stronger when 
Gianpaolo had proven ungrateful 
—provided always princely in- 
- gratitude should not reach the point 
of murder as a guerdon for bene- 
fit received. These chances they 
debated many times, ready to haz- 
ard the one for the profit of the 


3 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


other, and, meanwhile, they waited 
the outcome. 

One day — it was in mid-August, 
and they had arisen early ; the city 
was quiet once more, and it began 
to appear as if there had fallen upon 
Ercole what was for him the worst 
of all fates: that of being forgotten. 
A woman, she with whom they 
lodged, came weeping and trembling 
to their door, and behind her upon 
the stairs was the sound of many 
feet and the striking of scabbard- 
tips against the walls. 

Raffaello listened closely with 
bent head; but Ercole, with a sigh 
of relief, threw open the door and 
stepped out, smiling. 

An officer, fully armed, stood upon 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


the landing, blinking in the sudden 
light of the opened door. 

‘¢TIt is Messer Ercole da Pas- 
signo?’’ he said. 

Ercole bowed. i 

‘“The high and mighty prince, 
Gianpaolo Baglioni, commands your 
attendance.” 

‘‘J am ready,” said Ercole. 

Raffaello pushed forward. 

‘*And I also—his friend,” he 
said. 

‘¢ The command is but for one,” 
—repled the captain, stiffly. ‘‘ He 
does well who goes not unbidden 
into the presence of the Baglioni.” 

‘‘But surely you will not deny 
me — 

The officer interrupted : 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘What evil have you done me that 
I should seek your death? Remain 
here or go elsewhere —if you are 
indeed his friend: so I may not in 
mercy stab you on your threshold, 
and the saints pardon me my sins 
for that one act of kindliness.”’ 

Raffaello stood back with tears 
starting into his eyes; but Ercole, 
descending the stairs amid his cap- 
tors, waved his hand to him and 
laughed. 

Down, out into the street, and 
up toward the piazza they hurried. 
Here and there a citizen passed with 
averted face, fearing doubtless lest 
he might be recognized by this new 
victim and involved by a claim for 
aid or service. Then the palazzo 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


loomed into view, horrible with its 
ghastly trophies, and they passed 
through the gateway, while the hon 
and the griffin glared from their 
marble brackets, malignant and 
bloodthirsty. 

On through silent chambers 
draped with black velvet hangings, 
where sombre-clad servitors bowed 
in silence, and threw open doors that 
led stall deeper into the massive pile. 

The company had fallen away, 
man by man, during their passage, 
and when at last Ercole stood before 
an oaken door studded with bronze 
nails, his only attendants were the 
captain and one other. The pris- 
oner’s sword had been left to him 
through all these happenings, but 


t 
t 
Fe 
ti 
| 
% 
I 
| 
I 
: 


Tue Entrance oF THE Paxazzo Pustico 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


now the oflicer bent down and 
drawing it from its sheath handed 
it to the soldier. Then he knocked 
gently on the door and it fell open 
at his touch. 

It was a small room, square, but 
with high ceiling; at a table at 
one side sat a friar writing, while 
in a great carven Gothic chair oppo- 
site the door reclined a man dressed 


from head to foot in black velvet 


without ornament or jewels. The 
light was none too strong, and his 
face was half covered by his hand 
as he leaned forward upon one 
elbow, but Ercole felt the presence 
even before he raised his eyes. He 
knew that the beauty of the most 
graceful and most savage of beasts 


[ 217 ] 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


was there; that Guianpaolo had 
indeed summoned him to a last 
interview. 

A momentary chill struck to his 
heart like a dagger-thrust, and then | 
he grew cool and collected under the 
spur of the unequal contest, and all 
other feeling was drowned in a high 
resolve to bear himself so that his 
last hours should leave behind them 
no memory whereat friends could 
blush or enemies exult. 

Doffing his little red cap, he 
bowed with graceful dignity, and, 
standing erect, he looked full at 
Gianpaolo and waited. 

It was the latter's eyes, deep 
sunken within blue rings and burn- 
ing with half-smothered fires, that 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


wandered, searching but restless, 
over every inch of the slender, well- 
knit youth before him. Then he 
motioned to the soldiers, who bowed 
and withdrew, closing the door 
behind them. And now the eyes 
were turned upon the monkish sec- 
retary until he seemed to writhe 
under them and half rose from his 
table, but Gianpaolo shook his 
head, and the monk sank back into 
his seat, pale and exhausted. 

How many death sentences had 
he heard and transcribed during the 
last few days? thought Ercole, and 
he glanced at him pityingly; but 
the eyes of Gianpaolo were again 
regarding himself, and he felt their 
power and met them — just a little 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


indignant at the unnecessary and 
painful suspense to which he was 
being subjected. 

At last the Baglioni spoke : 

‘Tt is Messer Ercole da Passigno, 
pupil in painting of Pietro Vannucci, 
named ‘ The Perugian ’?” 

Ercole bowed. 

‘¢Son of Antonio, the merchant, 
and grandson of Messer Fabrizio da 
Passigno, sometime lieutenant of 
condottier1 in the service of Fran- 
cesco Sforza?’’ continued Gianpaolo. 

Again Ercole inclined his head 
in acquiescence. 

‘* You area poor man, and, though 
of blood accounted gentle, you have 
yet neither land nor tower nor 
servant —”’ 


[ 220 | 


f/ ‘ 
INS FS) Nay 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘*Because my father, being 
honest, thought proper to discharge 
debts not justly his, and died before 
such time —’”’ began Ercole, but 
Gianpaolo interrupted : 

‘« The cause is for you; the fact 
for me,” and Ercole was silent. 

After a moment the inquisitor 
spoke again : 

‘‘Being such and of such for- 
tunes, you have yet aspired to love 
the daughterof Gianpaolo Baglioni.” 

Ercole stood very straight, his 
eyes grew warm and luminous with 
the fires that burned deep in his 
soul, and he answered firmly : 

‘«Ttis true ; and if it be aspiration 
unto death to love her, I account it 
wiser than the meanness of heart 


agin 


a 


oO 


a 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


that, having once seen such loveli- 
ness, could look with patience upon 
a life that might behold it no 
more.” 

Gianpaolo’s face wasimpenetrable. 

‘« That you alone had loved would 
be matter of little moment,” he 
said. ‘‘ That she also has looked 
upon you with foolish eyes, renders 
urgent my duty as a father and a 
prince.” 

Ercole sank upon one knee, as if 
| from very weakness ; he clasped his 
~ hands; all his composure was gone. 

‘“You have spoken words,” he 
said, slowly, ‘‘ that are more certain 
consolation to a dying man than 
was the vision of eternal joy to 
God's martyrs.” 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


‘* Perhaps I owe you that much,”’ 
said Gianpaolo, looking down to hide 
the cloud that mantled his brow. 
‘‘J might give you safe-conduct 
out of all my estates,’ he went on, 
as if to himself, ‘‘ taking your parole 
that you should not return — ” 

Ercole sprang to his feet, laughing. 

‘“Nay, rather call them now to 
kill me,” he cried. ‘‘ Now, while 
the wine of your words is in 
my heart; that I may die blessing 
God.” 


‘‘T could not trust your parole,”’ 
continued Gianpaolo, as if there had 
been no interruption. 

‘Therefore, I would not give it 
you,” said Ercole. 


Gianpaolo started slightly, and, for 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


a moment, he said nothing. Tis 
face had become very thoughtful. 

‘« T owe you something of a debt,” 
he said at last. 

‘¢ Think not of it,” cried Ercole. 
‘« Itis one that no prince measures.” 

He was filled now with a reckless- 
ness that seemed bent upon hastening 
the end which he felt hung over 
him ; but not so much as the quiver 
of an eyelid told that the other had 
heard, much less taken umbrage at 
such boldness. Gianpaolo’s voice 
was even more gentle when he spoke 
again. 

‘“You speak wisely. How shall 
the Lord of Perugia pay the debt of 
the man, Gianpaolo Baglioni — out 
of the duty a prince owes to his 

22a | 


SOE AREER SRS OEE aS ET EE PE 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


place and people? Listen. It is 
by the marriage of women that a 
ruler fortifies his power. We of 
the Baglioni are strong in Umbria, 
but Ottavia must add to thatstrength. 
He who weds her must bring to our 
aid lofty towers, broad lands, noble 
blood, well-followed banners; or, 
in default of these,” and the speaker 
paused, ‘‘he must bring such 
strength of mind or body as shall 
weigh down the scale. All who 
would thwart me must be swept 
relentlessly from my path — even 
though I love them as sons. 
Nothing shall hinder my policy — 
nothing!’’ For a moment his eyes 
blazed with ambition; perhaps, 
even, with something of patriotism. 


tues 
Pia ey) 


fe] 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Then they grew calm again. ‘‘Can | 
you give me these things?”’ he said ; 
‘*or can you make good their lack?” 

Ercole shrugged his shoulders © 
and his lip curled. It was child's 
play, this questioning: worse, it 
was the play of the cat with the 
mouse, and he was weary. : 

‘¢Bethink you well, lest you de- 
cry your merit,’ said Gianpaolo. 

‘*T have at least the merit to die 
well for a great love.” 

‘©So died Christ's saints and 

| martyrs now in Heaven,’’ replied 

Gianpaolo ; ‘‘but they, also, were 
workers of miracles. He who works 
miracles in these days is greatest 
of men. Bethink you; are you of 
his company ?”’ 


pss Nei NO 
05 [D my), 
Bala 


e 
9° 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


Ercole leaned forward, white with 
rage. 

‘Truly, [ think you are prince 
of the company of devils.”’ 

Gianpaolo threw back his head 
and laughed out, and the secretary 
looked up in sudden terror. 

‘* You have said it!’’ cried the 
Lord of Perugia. ‘‘Has not the 
whole of Italy so named us of 
the Baglioni ? — devils? — of a race 
sprung from the loins of the king 
of devils? Is it not from this 

_ blood that I have, with my own 
eyes, beheld you lead forth a choir 
of angels? What miracle greater 
than to make an angel of a Bagli- 
oni? What miracle-worker more 
potent? How shall I strengthen 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


my house better than by such an 
alliance?”’ 

He rose and drew aside a curtain 
that hung beside his chair, disclosing 
a dimly lighted passage. 

‘«Tasten, signor,” he said. ‘‘Itis 
there that your mistress awaits you.” 

Ercole bowed deeply andadvanced, 
smiling and witha firm step. Was it 
cord, axe, or poniard that lurked in 
the passage? And Gianpaolo watched 
him pass, wondering beneath his 
mood at the light in the boy’s eyes. 

Suddenly Ercole saw the darkness 
brighten. He had thrust aside an- 
other curtain and stepped out into a 
room beyond,—and lo! he was dead 
and in Paradise. 

She sat before him, slender, lithe, 

228 | 


CA 


1@) 


a1 CESK 


n Or 
THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


demure, in a great carven Gothic 
chair, a small volume in her lap and 
a spaniel curled up at her feet. A 
cloud of hair, half loosed from its 
net of pearls and golden with the 
purest tint of the Etruscan refiners, 
floated across her neck and cheek, 
while the gown of blue silk, broad 
sleeved, through whose slashes the 
white of the vest seemed ready to 
burst, trailed gracefully to the floor. 
She looked at Ercole, and her eyes 
seemed now green, now gray, now 
golden, in their strange light. 

He had fallen upon both knees, 
stretching out his arms as to a saint 
above an altar. 

‘‘If you come nearer you may 


kiss my hand,” she said. 
[ 229 ] 


GSN SFOS 


Oo 
©' 


THE ANGELS OF MESSER ERCOLE 


There was an odor of flowers, and 
from some far-off chamber of the 
palazzo came whispering the divine 
harmony of lutes and viols : behind 
him the curtain through which he 
had just passed trembled and fell 
aside, disclosing a face, kindly, mild, 
gentle, yet with features that bore 
all the terrible beauty of Gianpaolo 
Baglioni. 


The eyes of Ercole da Passigno 
saw nothing, and his ears heard 
not — only his soul knew all things ; 
for the Princess Ottavia had kissed 
him upon the mouth. 


Ay OY 
WN \ 


\ 


SS QQ \\ 
\ 
\ \ 


SS WY ~ 


INN 


